


from the lemon tree (to the honey bee)

by Willshebemina



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Assassins/Templars, Angst, F/F, Family Drama, Fluff, M/M, MOST OF THIS FIC IS T-RATED, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, author doesn't know how not to swear, but this IS set in renaissance italy just because i can, ezio gets forced to chug some respect women juice, ezio is a himbo, idiots to lovers, internalised biphobia, lots of tender gestures yearning and gentle loving words, slooooooow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2020-02-29 03:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 137,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18770368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willshebemina/pseuds/Willshebemina
Summary: When Christina marries another man, Ezio’s broken heart takes refuge wherever it can be found. A (nearly) accidental encounter with his mother’s friend Leonardo turns out to be a welcome distraction. While it’s not love at first sight, it proves to be something infinitely more valuable.EDIT 2019-10-04:previous title "aspre dolce"





	1. Nectarine

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternative universe in the sense that assassins aren’t a thing. Templars exist, but only as they do in our world. I just want Ezio and Leonardo to be happy without the overhanging burden of the Assassin-Templar war, god damnit. Is that too much to ask?  
> Which means no executions! See this as something taking place in an Italian renaissance setting, rather than during those historic events. I’ve borrowed the setting, the culture, but none of the potentially plot-relevant trouble. Great? Great.  
> This was inspired by me thinking "I wonder how Ezio would've turned out if the executions never happened, considering what a frat boy he was. oh my god. coming of age mlm love story. yES."
> 
> \----
> 
> i'm doing my best to do weekly updates and stay ahead in my doc so i can edit before posting for maximum quality nonsense, i started publishing when i already had around 30k words. so yeah it's probably gonna be at least 100k wordcount on this sweet baby. so grab your straps and strap in, lads!
> 
> the oc/oc are some wlw couples that will turn up later (this story is planned out!!!! i actually planned shit can you believe??) because here's my #1 writing tip: add more lesbians. 
> 
> i refer to Leonardo here as "di Ser Piero" because calling him only da vinci would be super weird since vinci is like... right outside firenze. people would know who his dad, a nobleman, is so i think referring to him as "that rich dude Piero's son" would be more common, not to mention polite.

There’s nothing quite like a comfortable morning. To stay in bed and sleep for an extra hour, or to be half-asleep and half-awake, in that dreaming space in between. Nothing quite like just laying there in a bed moulded after your sleeping body, underneath a heavy and secure duvet as the world continues to go on outside of your window. Oh, to not be in a hurry to dress and get the day started, to know that your world will survive without you just for a day.

 

Ezio had seen fewer and fewer of those mornings lately. Really, he would even take waking up by way of Federico slamming a pillow into him than being chased out by some girl’s enraged father. This time he hadn’t had the slightest warning before her father had burst in, fist and sword at the ready—but _really,_ who carries a sword indoors? To go and wake up their daughter? Not a very reasonable man, to be sure. _Quite_ unreasonable he was; he wouldn’t even let Ezio try to explain himself or even let him get dressed. The fact that he had gotten on a pair of breeches was admirable. He had even managed to grab his shirt, jerkin and one boot before having to escape through the window. That was when the sword had made its entrance, as the (extremely rude) man had taken a swipe at him. Fortunately for him, he got a hit in. Unfortunately for him, it was just a scrape on Ezio’s arm rather than the whole limb.

 

Unfortunately for Ezio, that scrape hurt like a bitch and bled just enough to stain his shirt. On the bright side, he had managed to put on his shirt and jerkin (it was open, to be fair, but hey he put it on!) while running. The shoe, however, was still in his hand. Naturally, the man had sent his muscle after Ezio. Naturally, these turned out to be fierce sons of bitches as well. He had a good head start and he was a better runner, but he couldn’t climb as well barefoot and with his arm the way it was, so he had to try to outrun them on foot. Again, not so convenient without shoes on. He was ahead of them enough to not be in their immediate sight, but he had difficulty losing them. He was chased in the direction of the Auditore Palazzo as well, which made him all the more eager to make himself scarce before his mother saw him in his current state. Quickly, he turned left to a street and his pursuers temporarily lost sight of him. Thinking fast, he saw a familiar alcove and dived in the shadows there. If he couldn’t get inside the house, he could at least press himself into the shadows in the corner and hope they ran past him. The door, in a stroke of luck, was open and he threw himself in and slammed the door behind him within the space of a single breath. Instantly, he rested the back of his head on the door and tried to catch his breath in heaving gasps. The slam of the door brought on the attention of the resident of the house, who came down the stairs to investigate the sound.

 

“Ezio Auditore?” his mother’s artist friend asked. His voice, and the look on his face, was justifiably confused.

 

“Good morning—,” Ezio began with a breathless voice, pausing to breathe, “—messere di Ser Piero. Please excuse…” _God,_ his lungs were strained, those had been some fast bastards, “…my rudeness. But do you mind if I take shelter here? I won’t be a moment.” His lungs, feet and arm might be hurting but in a moment like this, he felt, it was likely for the best to use the polite manners his mother had taught him.

 

“I, well—wait, is that _blood_ on your arm?!” messere Leonardo was more alarmed than offended by the intrusion, eyes instantly going wide as he surged forward to lift up Ezio’s right arm. Ezio himself was too shocked by the attention to rip his arm away as he normally would. If he had, it would likely have been a challenge, since di Ser Piero’s hands were surprisingly strong around his forearm.

 

“It’s just a scratch,” Ezio said. “It looks worse than it is, honestly.”

 

Leonardo rolled his sleeve up and frowned at the injury. “Even so, it needs to be bandaged. What on earth happened?”

 

Ezio couldn’t help the sideways grin at the memory. “I made a girl very happy and her father less so.”

 

The painter huffed in what might have been amusement or judgement, lettin Ezio’s arm go. “Next time, may I suggest la Rosa Colta?” he said. “It’s there for a reason. And there’s no risk of being maimed, as far as I know.”

 

“Then you know less about those girls than you think. And _yes_ , but what about the _challenge?_ The art of seduction? Life’s nothing without a bit of adventure.”

 

di Ser Piero sighed. “I think we have different views on what constitutes as an adventure. Stay here, I think I have some medical supplies upstairs.” He paused, looking at the boot in Ezio’s hand and then down at his feet. “… And spare shoes,” he said, before walking towards the stairs. It was a shame that he seemed so disinterested in women—with his looks and kind manner, Ezio gathered that he could win the heart of almost any woman he so chose. Good looks are a gift, to not share it would be selfish. Downright _unchristian_.

 

Though, from the state of the room Ezio found himself in, he could see that Leonardo did not lack for things to occupy his time. The smell, though better than the acrid scent of city outside, was strong—some strange mixture between oil, fire and something he didn’t recognise. Every available surface was covered with this or that; papers, utensils, books, flasks, dye, candles… Either he did not receive many guests in his home, or the state of the rest of it was _far_ worse. Honestly, how could such a well-kept and put-together looking man be so disorganised? He stepped towards the largest table and stopped in his tracks as he felt something squelch beneath his foot. He has stepped on a half dried glob of orange paint. Inspecting the floor, he noticed many discolourations in the wood where something had been furiously scrubbed off, but never disappearing entirely.

 

(And by God, wasn’t paint _expensive?_ Ezio would’ve thought that an artist of all people would be more careful with it.)

 

With a slight grimace, he tried to wipe the (thankfully small) stain on his foot on the floor. It worked well enough, for him if not for the floor. He walked ahead to table, this time minding his step, and he peered at the papers strewn over it. Sketches. They were all sketches of plants, and of various parts of the human body. Ezio couldn’t claim any knowledge of the higher arts, nor did he desire it, but only a fool could look upon the decisive, simple lines that so economically captured what they sought to and think they lacked talent. Steps sounded against the wooden stairs and Ezio looked up to see di Ser Piero come down, holding what looked like bandages in his arms, as well as something else he couldn’t see.

 

“Would you clear a spot for this at the table?” the artist asked and Ezio complied, clearing out a spot by making an already sizeable stack of things even taller. Just as Ezio lifted the last paper, di Ser Piero dumped the contents of his arms on the table. Bandages, a pair of scissors and—honey?

 

“What’s with the honey?”

 

“It’s for covering your cut before I bandage it,” messere Leonardo explained. “Hold out your arm for me, please.” Ezio did and messere Leonardo, like before, rolled up his sleeve before picking up the jar of honey. “The ancients used it sometimes. According to what I’ve read, it prevents infection.”

 

“I don’t think I know a single doctor who would agree with that,” Ezio said. “Leeches have worked well so far. And those ancients all died for a reason.”

 

“Yes, it’s called old age,” Leonardo said. “And this has worked perfectly well on me. My mother would use it on me when I was injured as a child and it worked well. But if you’d really like to get your blood sucked out of you, I won’t stop you. But I guarantee you, this will work better. Honey can cleanse. Now, may I continue?”

 

Ezio narrowed his eyes as he carefully considered the man before him. It sounded reasonable. It looked reasonable. di Ser Piero seemed reasonable. _Except_ , “I thought you were an artist, not a doctor.”

 

Leonardo huffed. “And I can’t be both? I am self-taught in medicine; I’ve tried all of my remedies on myself, and I’m still alive.”

 

Well. Fuck it. The worst that could happen was that he would have to visit a doctor later on anyway, so he might as well. Ezio nodded his assent and Leonardo twitched his lips in a small, warm smile as he began to smear honey over Ezio’s cut. Ezio hissed through his teeth. He hadn’t expected it to sting so much.

 

“Oh, right—this might sting a little,” Leonardo said. Ezio snorted. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

 

The stinging shortly subsided and it only took a quick minute for di Ser Piero to finish before he continued with the bandage.

 

“Is it safe for you to head out again?” The artist asked.

 

“Honestly?” Ezio said. “No. But I’ll manage. I’m used to this sort of trouble by now.”

 

“I imagine Signora Auditore must be, as well,” Leonardo said wryly. Ezio felt a twinge if shame at that — nevertheless true — remark.

 

The ends of the bandages were secured and neatened, before di Ser Piero leaned back, pronouncing it finished.

 

“I am most grateful for your help, messere di Ser Piero,” Ezio said as he rose from his chair.

 

“Anything for a friend,” Leonardo replied smoothly. “You’re welcome to stay here until the danger has passed, as well.”

 

Ezio blinked, taken aback. Was there no end to the kindness of this man? “I can manage,” he said.

 

“I have no doubt that you can, but you don’t have to. Like I said, anything for a friend.” There was nothing in messere Leonardo’s face that suggested ingenuity. Ezio was not unused to people trying to schmooze him or his family for a chance to get just a little bit further ahead in life than before; the fake politeness, the smiles that didn’t reach the eyes, the overly bright voice and demeanour. Either Leonardo was an exceptionally good manipulator, or he was a different creature entirely—a genuinely good person. _And those_ , he thought, _are rare._

 

“Honestly, yes _please._ I’m not to thrilled about what my mother’s reaction to this will be, so I’d rather stay away until she’s calmed down a bit.”

 

Leonardo let out a short laugh at that. “I can’t say I blame you. Your mother is a formidable woman.” He paused. “You can hide out here for a few hours, if that helps, as long as you leave me to work in peace.”

 

Ezio was taken aback yet again. “You’re a _saint_ , Leonardo, I can’t thank you enough!” he grinned.

 

“But if your mother asks me directly I won’t lie to her,” the artist quickly added.

 

“I wouldn’t ask you to.” He would, if he could, but asking someone to face certain death was a bit much.

 

Leonardo nodded, wringing his hands. He kept smiling, though it looked strained. “Right, I—have work I must return to. Feel free to look around but I beg you, don’t disturb me. I am easily distracted.”

 

Ezio wondered if he was easily distracted by annoyances or fun; he hoped it was the latter. The Auditore put a hand to his chest and stepped back in a bow so shallow it didn’t deserve the name. “I’ll be as silent as the grave.”

 

The tension around Leonardo’s eyes relaxed. “It is appreciated.” With a gracious incline of his head, he went to the other end of the studio, where an easel stood with its back turned in their direction. He picked up his brush from where he had most likely left it to answer the door, though he didn’t immediately continue painting. Instead, he stood with his arms crossed, looking pensively at the canvas. Ezio was curious about seeing him paint, as he had never gotten the chance to calmly observe an artist like this before. Though as a minute passed and di Ser Piero still did not move, he shrugged and decided he might as well look around.

 

Looking over his shoulder he noticed the anatomical sketches again and he began to leaf through them. He didn’t really understand them—and there were _so_ many of them—but why? He understood those he saw that depicted the body’s muscles, especially those in particular motions, as they had to be a must for an artist but… what the hell did a painter need a sketch of the inside of a _human chest_ for? More importantly, what knowledge had he based it on? Perhaps it was related to the obviously more extensive knowledge than he had let Ezio believe that he had of the human anatomy. Though again, that only created more questions. The writings on the papers were strange as well. Everything looked to be written backwards, though reading them backwards still couldn’t make it understandable. It was like another language entirely.

 

Ezio looked up and peered closely at the strange man working away at his canvas. There was a deep line in his forehead as he frowned at his work, as well as a downwards tilt of the corner of his mouth. Also, Ezio noted, he held his brush in his left hand. That explained the backwards writing at least, since writing from right to left meant that he wouldn’t have to stain his left hand with ink and smudge everything he wrote. But using one’s left hand as their dominant one shouldn’t occur in people as obviously intelligent as di Ser Piero, since his teachers should have trained him out of it since he was a child. Then _again_ , “di Ser Piero”... It wasn’t a guarantee that he had received any formal education considering his bastard status. Though that instead raised the question, how could an uneducated man be so skilled and knowledgeable in _so_ many things?

 

Ezio knew he was a curious sort. His mother had once told him _Ezio, your focus is invaluable, but you shouldn’t let your focus grow into obsession_. He had heard, but hadn’t listened, and now with Christina gone—

 

He forced himself away from the notes and strode over to di Ser Piero, instead. Silently, he walked around to stand to the side behind the painter as he worked. He was in the middle of colouring a man’s jacket a scalding green. The man himself was unappealing, looking like he had bit into a lemon by the almost cruel tilt of his mouth. His nose was crooked and didn’t fit into his face and the look in his eyes seemed condescending to the viewer. He was old, forty something, with grey streaked through his hair and lines between his eyes that were only emphasised by his frown.

 

“ _Cristo_ , why are you drawing this man? Shouldn’t art be, you know… beautiful?”

 

“It’s a portrait I was commissioned, of the commissioner himself. Why, isn’t he pretty enough for you?” Ezio couldn’t see di Ser Piero’s face, but he thought it was amusement he heard in his voice and saw in the small tilt of his head.

 

“Well he’s ugly, so yes.”

 

There was no way he imagined the quiet snort the painter made at that. “The fee he’s paying me is far more attractive, believe me.”

 

“But _why?_ I don’t get why he would ask you to draw _him_ if all things. I mean this? This is what he wants to be documented for future generations? Seems masochistic, like he wants future offspring to look back and go, oh, that’s why I’m unattractive, I got it from my father. Why not draw a woman? Beauty always sells. You could get one of the girls from the bordello to model, even. I _bet_ someone would pay for that.”

 

“And they’d pay for putting it up in their home where their wife can see it, I’m sure.”

 

Ezio dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Just stick a bow in her hand, call her Artemis and you’re good to go.”

 

That, at least, managed to draw an honest laugh out of the other man. “You’re proving to be a distraction, friend Ezio.” As warm as the tone was, the underplaying reminder was still firm.

 

“I am very sorry you find me funny,” Ezio said seriously, stepping away. He saw di Ser Piero cast a look of exasperation towards him, though there _still_ wasn’t any heat behind it. He was either a man of infinite patience, or he actually had humour. Maybe even the rare combination of both.

 

He occupied himself with examining the rest of the chaotic workshop, though found nothing else of interest except for pages upon pages of that strange writing, along with some sketches of everything from flora and fauna, to men and women, to buildings, to… whatever the rest were, he had no idea. Soon enough, he decided to pester the painter again, though he only called over to where he stood.

 

“Say, what do _you_ think constitutes as an adventure?”

 

“Hmm?” He didn't look up.

 

“Earlier, you said we have different ideas of adventure. Don’t you like the thrill of improper romance? I’ve never met any man who doesn’t.”

 

di Ser Piero sighed. “It doesn’t interest me.”

 

Huh. That sounded like bullshit. “What? With _your_ face? It should be a crime not to share your good looks with the world. Haven’t you thought about all the poor women out there who would love the chance to throw themselves at you?”

 

“Honestly, whenever I meet a woman, I usually end up caught in conversation with her instead. The rest… is not what’s important. I prefer the mind to the vessel carrying it.”

 

If Leonardo di Ser Piero wasn’t just the most enigmatic fucking person he had ever met. “You sound 65 instead of 25.”

 

“Thanks for calling me wise.”

 

Ezio huffed. He looked for a place on the table that he might borrow as a seat, but found none. The entire surface was covered.

 

“So what constitutes as an adventure? You never said.”

 

A pause. “There’s no use in asking you to be quiet, is there?”

 

Ezio shrugged. “You can always _ask._ ”

 

Another sigh. Another pause. “I should like to fly.”

 

He hadn’t truly expected what he might say. He had _half_ expected him to say “to experience some real peace and quiet,” but Leonardo refused to be predictable. Ezio crossed his arms, looking at the painter who in turn was focused on his work.

 

“You shouldn’t limit your adventures like that, or you’ll never have one. Pick something that isn’t impossible, thanks.”

 

“It’s only impossible if you tell yourself so,” was his response. That sounded almost like something a priest would say when speaking of faith. To have faith would make things real and make your prayers come true and so on.

 

“I’m sorry, friend, but I don’t think you’ll sprout wings no matter how hard you pray,” Ezio said.

 

A chuckle. “ _That_ would indeed be impossible. No, I mean manmade ways of flight.”

 

Honestly, the more he explained it the stranger it became. “ _Manmade?_ Man made wings?”

 

“With the right technology, anything is possible.” And God damn it, he looked like he actually believed it. Ezio couldn’t decide if di Ser Piero was just overly optimistic or an outright – borderline delusional – idealist.

 

“You know, I do get the sense that you’re much more well-read than me—,”

 

“Than I,” di Ser Piero corrected.

 

“You just proved my point. Anyway, yes, but even _I_ have read that one story about Icarus. Watch out for the sun, messere di Ser Piero.”

 

The artist seemed both amused and confused in equal measure with the way his lips and left brow twitched.

 

“I didn’t know having faith in technology constituted as arrogance.”

 

Going by the various sketches and other curious things Ezio had found, it was more likely faith in the man’s own technology, rather than society’s at large. Which… good, a lot of new “technology” was flat out stupid. But rather than pointing that out, he shrugged. “Well, going by your own logic nothing is impossible. So why not impossible arrogance?”

 

Amusement won Leonardo’s inner battle as his brow stopped twitching. He tilted his head to the side. “I thought you implied that it was very much possible for me to be arrogant, rather than the opposite.”

 

“Well—, that’s… I give up, I haven’t had nearly enough sleep for this… whatever it is you’re doing.”

 

“Talking? Discoursing? Trying to do my job while someone is doing their damndest to distract me?”

 

Ezio _hah!_ ’d. “Alternative four: being a smug bastard.”

 

“Well, now, what has my parental status got to do with me being smug? What’s to say I wouldn’t still be smug if I was legitimate?”

 

God _damn it_ , di Ser Piero was still smirking! Only now he wasn’t even trying to hide it behind annoyance and had given in to, silently, admitting that he was enjoying their exchange. Ezio was undecided as to how much or how little he enjoyed it. He loved a challenge, but he didn’t so much love _losing._ He covered his face with his hands and groaned, so loud it was barely muffled by his palms.

 

“You win!” He exclaimed. “No more distractions from me! I’m taking a nap. If I haven’t woken up in two hours, feel free to kick me.”

 

“Oh, I shall,” said Leonardo, still chipper and far too amused at Ezio’s expense.

 

Ezio took a stool (after moving the book rested on it to another already existing pile), stood it against the wall, sat down and crossed his arms, leaned his head back and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Leonardo di fucking Ser Piero didn’t, in fact, kick him. Instead, Ezio was woken up by a gentle hand around his shoulder, adding just a pit of pressure to wake him up.

 

“Ezio?” His voice was soft, just a bit quieter than his normal speaking voice. “You said two hours.”

 

Ezio came to just as softly, just as slowly. He blinked his eyes against the light. Light, which turned out to be the sun reflected on di Ser Piero’s blonde hair. di Ser Piero, who was standing just above him. Ezio blinked again.

 

“Oh,” he said, for want of a better word. He hesitated. “It’s probably safe for me to go, then.”

 

“I don’t envy whatever fate awaits you, but yes, you should get home alright.”

 

Ezio laughed, only a little devoid of humour. He looked to the wound on his arm, which was a dull ache, almost in the background of his conscious. “Mamma will say I deserved it.”

 

The artist shrugged. “She wouldn’t be wrong.” He reached out his hand to Ezio. “Though I’d be more worried if I was that girl you left behind.”

 

Ezio winced. He hadn’t even thought of her. Not even considered how she would—

 

He sighed and took Leonardo’s hand, allowing himself to be helped up. “She’ll be alright.”

 

“I’m sure she will,” Leonardo said, with a sanguine smile. He looked unconvinced.

 

“Well, I would _ask_ her, but I don’t think I’ll be allowed within a league of her house,” Ezio shrugged, humour in his voice as a way of begging the subject to be dropped. There was a beat as Leonardo seemed to still, before returning to normal. Subject dropped, then.

 

“Oh,” he said, looking at the floor, “I forgot. You’re barefoot.”

 

Ezio had forgotten that, too. There were small stains on the floor left by his foot and the paint on it was half dried, enough to be sticky, clinging to the wooden floor.

 

“Or half barefoot, technically,” Leonardo continued. “Or half shoed, if you look at the bright sight of things. It’s better than wholly barefoot.”

 

“Yeah, I could be barefeet,” Ezio said.

 

“Exactly!” They both paused, seemingly at a loss. Both waited for the other to say something first.

 

“I’ll be fine like this—,” Ezio began just as Leonardo said “Maybe I have a spare—“. They both paused at the same time. The artist wrung his hands, smearing a small dot of white paint so it became a long, thin line. “Sorry, after you,” he said.

 

“I was just— I’ll be fine. Home is not far and I got here just fine,” Ezio finished. Leonardo huffed. “And I likely have a spare boot somewhere, or a sandal. You’re lucky you didn’t step on glass or filth on the way here.”

 

“I’ve intruded enough—“

 

“And I’m happy to help—“

 

“ _Really_ , I _can’t_ ask you—“

 

Any more was lost when Leonardo took a quick step forward and put a hand across Ezio’s mouth, the other on his shoulder. His palm was warm, calloused. The scent of oil paint and something else, something that just be entirely him, was overwhelming. As were… God, those were some very, very blue eyes. Ezio’s own eyes are wide open, unblinking. His first reaction was to back away, but for such a lithe figure Leonardo was incredibly strong. What felt like an hour passed by, an hour of strange scent, strange blue eyes, strange strength coming from a man proving to be stranger and stranger the more Ezio learned. But in truth, the moment was just that, a moment. Just as soon as Leonardo clamped his hand over his mouth, he stepped back and let his hands fall to his sides. It was shock, now, that kept Ezio in place, eyes and even mouth open, frozen still.

 

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll go find something. You can come by and give it back later, whenever you can. Stay.” And so he went upstairs. Ezio’s shut his mouth with a click. What the _fuck?_ Just _happened?_

 

It was barely noon and he was already exhausted. Who, Ezio thought, _who…_ is this man? Gentle and steely, soft spoken and firm, handsome and shy, creative and hesitant, genial and… naive. Leonardo di Ser Piero, it seemed to him in that moment, was a walking contradiction. Ezio almost laughed. What a _strange_ man. Entertaining enough to have kept him from thinking about Cristina for the longest time yet—

 

His good mood immediately shattered. Longest time _yet_ , was right. The familiar vice had crawled back around his heart to squeeze it dry.

 

He heard Leonardo’s footsteps before he saw him.

 

“Only a sandal, I’m afraid, but it’s better than nothing. We seem to be the same size, so it should fit you well enough,” Leonardo told him, coming up to stand in front of him before handing over the sandal. Old, used, well worn, likely obscenely comfortable for lounging in the summer but impractical for longer walks. Ezio felt relieved; it really was nothing Leonardo would miss, for now.

 

“Thank you,” Ezio said again. “I’m pretty sure I owe you a thousand times over after today.”

 

“You owe me nothing sans my best wishes to your mother,” Leonardo said. “Preferably before she disowns you.”

 

Ezio huffed. “Or murders me. Whichever comes first.”

 

Leonardo looked both sympathetic and amused at once. “Disowning a corpse seems redundant.”

 

Now Ezio could laugh. “I’ll know soon enough. Before I go,” he stepped forward and reached for Leonardo’s hand and clasped it with both of his own. “Thank you, again. You are a saint, messere di Ser Piero.” Leonardo carefully didn’t move.

 

“You’re welcome. And until the church says otherwise, I’m just a man.”

 

“Then I’ll have to write the pope post-haste to make it official.” He withdrew his hands and clapped the artist on the shoulder once, before stepping away. "I’ll see you soon, so that you can have your show back.”

 

“I’ll be right here,” Leonardo said. “Until next time, Ezio.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heartbreaking: local bi man only has one braincell. more news at eleven.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~don't ask me what happened with honey, honey bc i have no answers to give you i'm just terrible and this story engaged me more~~


	2. Green Grapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dad: actions have consequences!!!  
> Also dad: *does not make son suffer consequences*  
> Son: ayyy lmao
> 
> Mum: wait look at me i need to tell you something  
> Son: what?  
> Mum: bitch
> 
> no leo in this chapter :( only family business of the stern/yelling kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> negative thing about writing an au without the executions: i have to write about the family. more than i'd like to :/ but we need ezio to grow up without having to be massively traumatised and for that we need to write about the people who have tried but haven't done their best in raising him and, here, will fuck up in spectacular fashion
> 
> me yelling at all the characters as represented by a vine: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QlT3tK5XVk
> 
> 18 year old brat who's never really been taught how to behave: *acts spoilt/stupidly*  
> parents: whoa whoa what! i didn't raise you like this why are you acting this way  
> 18 y/o: meryl streep "oh i see you think this has nothing to do with you".gif
> 
> remember in ac2 when giovanni's reaction to ezio fooling around was "lmao i was a player in your age too son you do you" instead of trying to discipline him in any way. at all? yeah.   
> remember how maria obv loved her children but instead of really teaching ezio to behave we just saw her being sassy? which is fun for us the viewer in the moment but uh that's not how you raise kids? yeah 
> 
> trigger warning in the end note!!

Federico was the one who saw him first. He took a single look at him — bloodstains, undress and mismatched shoes, the birds’ nest his hair had turned into — and laughed. Then laughed some more. 

 

“I would go in through the roof if I were you, brother,” he said. “The longer you stay out of sight, the better for your health.”

 

“I can’t climb with this arm,” Ezio gestured to the wound. 

 

Federico shook his head. “Whatever you do, don’t lie about what you did. Confess to your crimes, apologise sincerely and promise not to do it again. You just might live.”

 

“Or be spared a slow death.”

 

Federico clasped his shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “I will remember you fondly, idiot.”

 

Ezio slapped the hand off. “Shut up, don’t mock the dying. Who raised you?”

 

Federico snorted. “Do us all a favour next time and just go to a damn brothel. Okay? It’s there for a reason. Like, say, being chased in the streets.”

 

“Now where would be the fun in that?”

 

“The sex, I’d imagine.”

 

_ Oh, touché. _ “ _ Imagine _ ? I thought you knew! Federico, don’t tell me you’re a virgin, I couldn’t bear the shame that would bring to our good name!”

 

“Ezio.”

 

Both brothers froze. Ezio looked over Federico’s side and inside the villa, where his mother had just exited one of the inner doors. Her back was as straight as a pillar, chin slightly raised, hands firmly clasped in front of her and her shoulders drawn backwards. Her face was unreadable. She looked practically ready for battle. He felt a chill travel down his spine. 

 

He swallowed. “Good day, mamma,” he said. 

 

“Is it?” 

 

Ezio sucked in a quick breath and Federico hissed through his teeth in sympathy. 

 

“Mamma, I’m going to go and bring Claudia home. I will be back shortly,” Federico said. 

 

“Good. Come straight home.”

 

Federico quickly nodded and patted Ezio on the back before leaving. Ezio stood very still on the threshold. 

 

“Come inside,” he was told. He moved mechanically, without any sort of awareness other than that of the stiffness of his limbs. He stopped right in front of her and though he was taller than his mother, he felt, in that moment, quite small. 

 

She frowned in concern, with a displeased downwards curve of her mouth. She took his arm and held it up for inspection. 

 

“What happened?”

 

“I was grazed. By a sword.”

 

The curve deepened. She dragged the tip of her finger along the makeshift bandage. 

 

“You’ve been treated. Did you see a physician?”

 

“No. Your friend, Leonardo, dressed it.”

 

His mother’s eyebrows quickly climbed high, the curve of her mouth straightening to an ‘ _ oh _ ’ oh surprise. “I didn’t know he had any training the healing arts.” 

 

“He’s a man of many talents.” Or a quack. He wouldn’t know until the wound either healed or he had to cut his entire arm off due to gangrene. 

 

She hummed, thinking deeply or perhaps, not at all. After she looked done, she drew her back straight up, folding her hands again. “Your father is waiting in his study.”

 

A lump began to form in his throat. “How long has he been waiting?”

 

“Since we first heard of a hedonistic rascal running around half naked, chased by the guardians of a young woman’s now spoiled virtue.” The line of her mouth was hard. “The original report was, as you can imagine, much ruder.” He very much could. If the word  _ whore  _ had not been used for either him or the girl, he would eat his remaining boot. “But as I said—your father is waiting.”

 

“Then I’ll go face my fate,” Ezio said, only acting the drama up a nodge, because maybe if he acted with humour he’d start to think this was funny again. He nodded to his mother, then headed towards his father’s office door. 

 

The study rarely felt so oppressive, so lacking in air. The shadows not banished by the lights were long and heavy, making the corners of the room feel like they were creeping closer. 

 

His father was sat behind the desk, looking up when Ezio came in. They were both silent. Ezio closed the door behind him and finally Giovanni… sighed. Naturally, the one truly neutral yet acceptable reaction all fathers had that worked in all possible situations. Happy? Sigh. Relaxed? Sigh. Grieving? Sigh. Annoyed? Sigh. Angry? Sigh. Fondly exasperated? Sigh. Loving? Sigh. Disappointed?  _ Sigh _ . The difficult thing was to figure out what sort of sigh it was. 

 

“Hello, father.”

 

“Ezio,” Giovanni acknowledged. He pushed his chair up, stood and walked around the desk to stand in front of Ezio. Normally, such a move would take seconds. Today, each step felt a minute long with Ezio’s mind working away, trying to interpret the significance of each movement, the weight of his father’s step and his microexpressions, what significance Giovanni trailing his fingers along the wood of the desk might hold. He tried to imagine what would happen next — the beginning of a scolding, perhaps?  _ I raised you better than this?  _ Or maybe he would play the guilt card and start with “do you  _ know  _ how worried your mother and I have been?”. Would he ask Ezio to tell him everything and let him know his side of it all, before letting his righteous parental fury rain down over his head? He could lay a hand on his shoulder and look into his eyes and say that he wasn’t angry, only disappointed. Regale him with a tale of how he himself was in Ezio’s age like he had before, try to relate to his son that way. And he would most likely begin that course of action by simply saying  _ “son”.  _

 

Giovanni surprised him. His first move was instead go gesture at Ezio’s arm. 

 

“May I see,” he didn’t ask, but told him. Ezio glanced down at his arm.  _ Ah.  _ He would have anticipated that if he didn’t continue to forget that the wound was there. He held his arm out wordlessly and his father took it, held up the sleeve and peered at the dressing. 

 

“You’ve had a physician see to it, I take it?”

 

“Not exactly,” Ezio admitted. Giovanni looked unimpressed and quirked his brows. He watched in him complete silence in an unsettling way of asking him to elaborate. “Mother’s friend Leonardo is knowledgeable about some medicine. He sheltered me while I hid from my pursuers and insisted on seeing to the cut.”

 

Giovanni snorted softly, both in amusement and disbelief. “ _ Please  _ tell me you at least had the sense to thank him properly.”

 

Ezio bristled and pulled his arm away from his father’s grip. He clenched his jaw tight, not appreciating what Giovanni insinuated—that he would be so awful as to not be thankful. Something like that wouldn’t only reflect badly on Ezio, after all. Despite all appearances to the contrary, he  _ did  _ care. He didn’t give a shit about what other people said of  _ him _ , of course. But family was something else. Even though the lessons on propriety didn’t stick, and certainly not those in chastity, or modesty (being a good catholic overall, really) and he was terrible at diplomacy—family loyalty was instilled so deep in him and so ingrained into his bones that it would have to be cut out of him. He himself could insult his brother to his heart’s content and tease his sister as much as he pleased (he would never, ever do either of those things to Petruccio. That boy was the only wholeheartedly good, positively angelic, person in all of Firenze, maybe even all of Italy), but if someone even looked at them funny? Revenge would be swift. That his father could even begin to think that Ezio would be so—God, it was an ugly thought, one that distilled an even uglier feeling in his chest.  

 

“I may be reckless, but I’m not completely senseless. I asked if I could repay him and in what way, but he refused. He said he was happy to help a friend… I’m going to return the sandal, though,” he added as an afterthought. 

 

His father blinked in confusion before looking at Ezio’s feet. One clad in his handsome boot, the other paint stained and wearing an unfashionable sandal. Giovanni actually smiled at that, and looked like he was struggling not to laugh. 

 

“I suppose your other shoe fell victim to your swift exit?”

 

Ezio sighed, forlorn. “I will remember it fondly.”

 

“In all honesty, it’s incredible that you had time to get dressed at  _ all.  _ You wouldn’t find it as funny had you been running out of there in nothing but your underwear.”

 

“Well, I  _ did  _ run out of there with _ out  _ underwear. So I say I have some idea. I only managed to, literally, jump into my breeches. The rest was done on the go.”

 

His father could no longer resist the urge to snort. “I blame all my grey hair on you, son,” he said, but without heat. “You’ll drive me to an early grave.”

 

“What, and leave Federico I’m charge even sooner? What are you accusing me of!”

 

“Not of rationality and good behaviour, I know that much.”

 

Ezio felt the sudden urge to sigh, just to turn the tables on Giovanni. He shook his arm so that his sleeve fell down once more. “Is this the point where you start lecturing me?” he asked. 

 

His father could  _ not  _ suppress the urge to sigh. Hah, Ezio had more willpower. Victory at last. “What would be the point?” Giovanni said, to Ezio’s surprise. “No, I have something else entirely that I need to talk to you about.” 

 

Ezio blinked. “Alright… That absolutely does not sound either suspicious or ominous, not at all.”

 

His father flashed him a pointed look. “I’m worried about you.” Oh,  _ fuck _ . No, please, anything but the gentle and well-meaning concern! Punishments were all well and good, because he could rebel all he liked without guilt. But guilt was as effective as torture. His parents must have planned this.  _ How do we get him to listen to us for once? I know, we shall love him so much that the shame of even being sassy will be enough to kill him! Marvellous idea, you absolute villain. _

 

“What for?” Ezio laughed. “I promise I won’t get this,” he waved his right arm for effect, “infected. First sign of trouble and I’ll go straight to the doctor. I’ll go and take a nap right now and gather my strength, even, see you at dinner!” he said, practically lunging for the door. 

 

Father was, predictably, not impressed. “I am serious.”

 

His hand twitched towards the door handle. “I thought you were Giovanni?” Argh, he was losing his edge, that one was awful. 

 

“I see you shifting towards the door, Ezio. Stay and listen to what I have to say. If you do, I won’t punish you for today’s indiscretions,—“

 

He snorted. “Last night’s, technically.”

 

“—But if you don’t, I will leave it to Maria to decide your fate.”

 

_ Fuck.  _ “You drive a hard bargain.”

 

Giovanni spread his hands in what would otherwise be a magnanimous or welcoming looking gesture, but now only looked smug. “I  _ am  _ a banker.”

 

“Ha, ha. Can I sit down at least?”

 

“You  _ may. _ ” 

 

Shit, fuck and hell, he was not in the mood for grammar lessons. He slumped into the chair in front of the desk, while his father gracefully lowered himself into the one behind it. He then placed his elbows on the table and clasped his hands, leaning forward. That was a pose which practically oozed foreboding. Ezio leaned back in turn, wary. 

 

“I’ve told you before that it would be hypocritical of me to berate you for your late night escapades,” his father began, “as I was a lot like you in your age. But that also means that I can tell the difference between harmless fun and a cry for help.”

 

Ezio laughed. “Thank you, father, but one  _ slightly  _ awkward escape doesn’t mean that I’ve lost my edge. You won’t ever  _ hear  _ about it the next time I stay out late, I promise you.”

 

“You misunderstand, son. Though I’m not sure if you do so on purpose. I can tell that you’re upset.”

 

“Of course I’m upset, a madman tried to slice me to ribbons this morning! Complete overreaction!”

 

Giovanni glared at him. “Are you really going to make me say it, Ezio?”

 

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Giovanni sighed, this one his deepest sigh yet, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“You act as if you’re the first person who’s ever had a broken heart,” his father said with pursed lips. 

 

Ezio straightened his back on reflex, mentally raising the drawbridge to guard himself from whatever nonsense about to be thrown his way. 

 

“Make some sense, please, I’ve still no idea what you’re on about.” But he did, he did knew. And by the look in his father’s eyes, he could tell. 

 

“It’s been a little over a month since Cristina moved away,” his father said. He now looked imploring, more and more when Ezio crossed his arms as his face darkened. It had been thirty four days since she left, to be exact. Not that he cared. “And I know that wounds of the heart takes much longer to heal but please, Ezio. You need to allow yourself to move on.”

 

Move on? Moving on was carrying on like normal and not letting it keep him down. Wasn’t that exactly what he was doing? Absolutely nothing had changed, but for the fact that Cristina was gone. “I am!”

 

“Don’t be stupid; more importantly, don’t think  _ me  _ stupid! You’ve never given much thought to us telling you off before, whenever we found out about another dalliance. But you at least had the decency to  _ try  _ to be careful, keyword being ‘try’. But it’s been a month and we have found out every single time. This would have been more alright if it wasn’t for the  _ unfortunate  _ fact that we usually find out from someone  _ else _ , which means that everybody knows. Not to mention the girls’ fathers. If you want an outlet for your frustrations, that’s what the brothel is for! But instead of that, which would’ve gone mostly unnoticed, I’ve been forced to put up your  _ frustrations  _ being public knowledge. It’s humiliating, Ezio!”

 

“How is it humiliating?! It’s not like I’m the only one with a working co– with urges in this town! You’d have an easier time finding a virgin rabbit than a virgin youth here!” Ezio protested. 

 

Giovanni slammed his hand on the desk, making Ezio flinch. “Because you’re ruining your own future! Men can’t be expected to remain pure for long, it’s not in our nature; but you’ve taken it to excess! And for what, for a girl you didn’t even want to marry? You were too late in asking Vespucci, so instead you must ruin every other young girl’s chances at marriage? It’s selfish!”

 

“The only thing ruined is my good mood,” Ezio muttered. “And my shoe.”

 

“ _ Damn your shoe!  _ I’m talking about your selfish reaping of girls’ virtues! How can they expect to marry a good man when every man in Firenze knows that you had her first? You might as well write  _ Ezio Was Here  _ on their foreheads to spare everyone the time.”

 

Ezio laughed. “If you think even for a second that even  _ half  _ of those girls had any virtue left to speak of—“

 

“ _ Stai zitto, dannatamente pazzo!  _ I don’t know if you were actually in love with Cristina or if you’re mad that you lost her ‘talents’ and frankly, I’m all out of sympathy for either option. If you loved her, then go bawl your eyes out where no one can see nor hear you. Go riding, take up bloody embroidery, or learn to play the damned organ for all I care, as long as you get over it!” He took a deep, shuddering breath to quell his anger. Ezio, who rarely saw his father express that much emotion at once, sat shock-still, almost not hearing the words as focused as he was on just the display. A tense breath passed, then another, before Giovanni spoke again. Just as firm, but no longer looking like he would explode at any moment.

 

“Heartbreak hurts, don’t think I don’t know that. Don’t think I don’t feel for you. But I won’t let you make it your ruin, either. I’ve been letting you get away with things for too long, now. You either stop going out at night, start going to the brothel instead, or you figure out how to be  _ subtle  _ for once in your life. Do you understand me?”

 

Ezio nodded, once, twice, thrice, all in quick succession. He swallowed, then said, “I understand.” He didn’t, not really, but no other reply would work there and then. 

 

Giovanni sighed, this time in relief. “Good.” He gestured at the door. “Now go and let your mother yell at you for a bit, I think she needs it.”

 

Ezio winced. “Well,  _ I  _ don’t,” he humphed. Another glare from his father had him rolling his eyes and he dragged himself out of the chair. “Into the fire, then.”

 

Right as he touched the door, his father called him again. “And, Ezio?” 

 

He tried desperately not to groan. “ _ Yes _ ?” 

 

His father’s face softened. “It will pass. It always does.”

 

Ezio clenched his jaw, said nothing, and left.

  
  


 

* * *

 

He had barely taken a step when his mother appeared. Then he had no time to say as much as hello before she quite literally  _ dragged him by the ear like a fucking child.  _

 

“What the f—  _ ow,  _ stop, I can walk on my own!” He protested loudly. He grabbed at the wrist pinching his ear, but that only caused her to dig in with her nails until he let go. She said nothing even as he continued to protest, and she continued to say nothing until she had dragged him into their sitting room, all but thrown him in and locked the door behind them. Ezio whined, rubbing at his throbbing earlobe.

 

“I’ve already been told off! Why the abuse!?”

 

Maria raised her hand and he shrank back, expecting a slap. To his relief ( _ debatable _ ) she only raised it so that she could point her finger with it’s very sharp, very pointed nail close to his face.

 

“Stronzo!” she hissed. Ezio reeled back again, this time in surprise at hearing his mother—of all people— _ curse _ . “Sei duro come il muro!”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Shut up! Now you listen to me and you listen carefully: get your little worm in order or I’ll do you a favour and  _ cut it off _ !”

 

He winced, hand instinctively moving to protect his groin as if it would do any good. But his mother wasn’t finished,

 

“How dare you, how  _ could _ you! I have always known you play hard and fast with the rules and I’ve been too lenient on you, thinking that you may be a troublesome boy, but at least you might one day become a good man! But I treat you like a child now because you’ve acted like one; a selfish, vain and inconsiderate, respectless idiot! I’ve known and forgiven you for your stupidity before but I will not stand  _ cruelty! _ ”

 

“Okay, alright, I understand!” he cried. “Papà has already gone through the motions, I promise to be less of an idiot.”

 

“This isn’t about what you  _ might  _ do, Ezio! It’s about what you did!  _ Who  _ you did!”

 

He snorted. Now, she did slap him. He wouldn’t have noticed at first, if it wasn’t for the loud  _ crack  _ it made on impact, if it wasn’t for the ringing in his left ear. Because it didn’t hurt at first, instead he only felt numb. He gaped, silent, bringing his hand up to touch his cheek. At a prob of his finger, his cheek started to burn. He was sure that it was red and would grow even redder, and it would definitely bruise later. Then, the burn was joined by the stinging of a thousand invisible sharp needles digging into his skin. And he didn’t say a word, only gaping in silence as the crack was still ringing in his ear. He took a proper look at his mother then, and was startled by the stone cold  _ fury  _ he saw there, that she must have hidden before only to unleash it behind closed doors. He had seen her angry, many times, but she looked hurt, as well. Her skin had even taken on a greyish tint around the edges, as if she were ill. 

 

What the  **hell.**

 

“Do you even remember her name?” she demanded. 

 

“Rachele,” he said. He hated how small he sounded. 

 

She scoffed. “At least you know the name of your victim. Good.”

 

“ _ Victim _ ?” Horror flooded through him, cold and heavy like iron. “Mamma, I would never—“

 

“That, at least, I know. Trust me, if you had, you would be dead where you stand.”

 

“Then what—?”

 

“Actions have consequences, Ezio!” She spat. “For everyone! But we are not equal in how those consequences affect us. You forget that you’re, laughably enough, a  _ man.  _ She’s a noble girl, with only an older sister, no brothers to protect her, and no mother to quell her father’s rage. You will both face consequences for this, but yours will be a slap on the wrist in comparison!”

 

_ Slap to the face, actually.  _ He didn’t dare voice that thought out loud. “It doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered. 

 

“Cry all you want. When you’re done, you’ll still have your family here. You’ll have your friends. You’ll have the lukewarm acceptance of society and mild exasperation of the church. You’ll have a future you can actually affect. You’ll have wealth, power. All you lose is our tolerance for your bad behaviour and indiscretion. And much of my regard, but you can at least salvage it somewhat. You’ll have your life, still. Rachele will have nothing.”

 

“She didn’t seem like she cared much yesterday.”

 

Maria’s nostrils flared. “You’re aware of how persuasive you can be. You’re  _ well  _ aware. Handsome, as you so like to remind us, experienced, young and forward. She didn’t stand a chance.” She took a large, long breath. “Know this: whatever fate befalls her next, you’re the only one to blame. It’s no one’s fault but yours.” 

 

With those final words, she grabbed her skirts in her hand, opened the door and let it fall closed behind her with a heavy slam; leaving Ezio behind in a now quiet room, with nothing but her words and the sting of her palm reverberating in his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: maria hits her son, ezio, by slapping him on the cheek. it leaves a mark that's going to bruise in the next chapter. he's 18 so technically an adult but y'know. you should never hit your kids no matter how obnoxious they're being


	3. Tagliere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in this world, it's yeet or be yote
> 
> do not be fooled by leonardo's wisdom here, there's still time for him to be really, really stupid in many other ways. he's what i like to call pure of heart, good of thought and dumb of ass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's good homeboy. one chapter every friday or so. hah. nah. don't expect me to be this kind in the future, but i really itched to put out the 2nd chapter but it was short and,,, a bummer so here, have some ezio interacting with both his brothers and talk to leonardo
> 
> y'know what has always annoyed me so much?? adults saying "you'll know when you're older" or that they'll explain or whatever. but then never do. and then the minute you hit 18 y/o (i'm 19 since about two, three weeks back) they'll expect you to magically know everything they didn't want to tell you about. it sucks. when you're below 18, they treat you like a kid but when you're no longer a minor, you're still only an adult... as long as it's convenient to them. like ok we all know that you're not really an adult until you're 30 but can we not be rude about it in the meanwhile?

 

Ezio’s limbs were shaking with restlessness and held in tension. He longed for company, so he could talk someone’s ear off about anything, as long as it was unimportant. Federico had not returned with Claudia yet and likely wouldn’t any time soon, so he was out. Claudia wouldn’t want to talk to him anyway since their mother was displeased with him and she was always firmly on her side against him. His parents… no, thank you. That only left one person. 

 

Upstairs, he rapped his knuckles against the dark wood of the door, as softly as he could while still making sure he was heard. He opened the door a split second before he heard the invitation to enter. 

 

Petruccio was sitting on top of the covers in the middle of his bed. Going by the innocent, wide-eyed look he wore (an exaggeration of his usual, actually innocent face) Ezio could easily see that he had disobeyed their mother’s orders to stay in bed and  _ not  _ sit glued to the window. 

 

Of course, his eyes grew much rounder when he took in the sight of Ezio. 

 

“Brother! What happened to you?!” 

 

Ezio forced a bright grin in response to Petruccio’s concern. “I had an adventure! Although not a terribly successful one, unfortunately.” He took a few long strides towards the chair that had taken up permanent residence at Petruccio’s bedside and sat down with a breath of relief. He cared not one bit of propriety, even less than he had in his father’s office, and practically draped himself over the chair, like a spectacularly handsome blanket. “I spent the night causing trouble, you see.”

 

Petruccio nodded wisely. “That explains the yelling.”

 

Ezio felt a stab of guilt. He wished that Petruccio hadn’t been forced to hear it. He needed all the rest he could get, so that he may stare at the sky without having to sneak out, from outside for a change. Alas, the troublemaking seemed to be in their blood. At least Petruccio’s kind was mostly harmless. 

 

“Dramatics,” Ezio explained. “The one thing everyone in this family has in common.”

 

“Not me,” Petruccio said brightly.

 

“Ah, but there’s still time for you yet. All hope’s not lost. Eat all your greens and you’ll grow to give us all a run for our money. We might even see you onstage one day, wouldn’t that be something?” 

 

Petruccio giggled and Ezio grinned back. Then, he stuck his hand down his pocket, dearly hoping that his so called adventure didn’t mean he’d misplaced—no, it was still there. He took his hand up and brandished a small, tawny feather, speckled with a darker brown. “Ta-daa.” He felt silly for saying it, but it was made worth it when Petruccio opened his mouth in shock and delight, then earnestly clapped his hands in a small applause. 

 

“It’s beautiful!” He stretched his hand out to take it and Ezio met him halfway, moving to drop the feather into Petruccio’s waiting palm. Instead, he surprised his little brother using the feather to tickle him on the nose. Petruccio spluttered, reared his head back, then sneezed. 

 

“ _ Ezio! _ ” he cried out, but he was laughing. So was Ezio. 

 

“Get back under the covers, brother, I’ll put these one with the others.”

 

Petruccio pouted, but acquiesced. Ezio did as promised and went over to Petruccio’s heavy bureau, and the small, finely decorated coffer that sat on top of it. He opened the box, revealing the collection feathers he had already retrieved for his brother that rested inside it. He laid the feather down with the others and closed the lid. 

 

“Still not going to tell me what they’re for?” He asked. 

 

Petruccio huffed. “I told you, it’s a secret!”

 

“He says, insisting that he’s not dramatic,” Ezio teased. His brother crossed his arms over his chest. 

 

“I’m not!”

 

“Uh-huh. If you say so,” he smiled. “You know, I talked to a very interesting person today, a friend of mother’s. Leonardo, he’s an artist. He told me he would very much like to fly. Maybe you two should knock your clever heads together, see if you can’t find a way.”

 

Petruccio looked pensive, apparently really considering it. “We would need a lot of feathers,” he determined, as if they just had that, there was no doubt that they could fashion themselves a pair of wings each. 

 

“I’ll keep looking,” Ezio promised. 

 

—

 

Dinner was—tense, to say the least. Maria did her best not to look at him or speak directly to him. Giovanni did his best to try and engage everyone in conversation, sending stern but concerned looks Ezio’s way. Federico was shooting him looks of sympathy because the bruise that had now fully bloomed in his left cheek, while Claudia shifted between looking puzzled, pitying and annoyed. Ezio tried to prod some not completely appropriate conversation out of Federico, but was being shut down almost as soon as he opened his mouth. He didn’t stop trying though, which meant that by the end of it all he had managed to make Federico looked pained too at not having the chance to respond, even when the innuendo was  _ right there  _ for him to pick up on, before he looked at Ezio’s red, swollen cheek again and decided to keep his mouth shut. Claudia was relishing her opportunity to talk almost uninterrupted, or maybe she was just as eager hold silence at bay as their father. 

 

It was if a dark cloud was hanging over the entire table, threatening to start shouting lightning at any second. As soon as he could, Ezio escaped to his room. He barely remembered to take off his shoes before he all but leapt onto the bed, landing face first on the mattress and not caring one bit that it smushed his nose. Three quick knocks came from his door. Not his parents, then, their knocks were always more decisive. More of a summons than a request. 

 

“Come in!” he yelled, though it ended up sounding more like “chmm hgn”. He heard the door open and close, then steps that stopped short of his bed.

 

“Alive?” Federico ( _ of course, it could have been no one else)  _ asked. Ezio only groaned in reply. 

 

“Thought so,” Federico said. “What’s the verdict, then? Smaller allowance, curfew, monastery? Castration?”

 

Ezio groaned again and rolled over to lay on his back. He stared up at the ceiling, tracing a small crack in the stone rather than looking at his brother. “Do threats of castration count?”

 

Federico whistled. “Wow. I was just joking. Dear God. I’m guessing it was our gentle mother who said that? And slapped you, I don’t see father doing that.”

 

Ezio dispassionately snapped his fingers. “Right on both accounts. Brava.”

 

Federico sighed. He slumped down on the end of Ezio’s bed with his back leaning against the footboard, his legs stretched out alongside Ezio’s. “Shit. Okay, what else?”

 

“Actually… not much. There were more implied threats and punishments, should I fuck up again. Papà was actually really understanding. I’m free to continue as I please, as long as I’m subtle about it, even though he would very much  _ appreciate it  _ if I stopped. Mamma was too busy verbally ripping me to shreds to actually remember to punish me, except for,” he gestured to his face, “Well—this. I’m not gonna remind her if no one else does. She just went on and on about how there are always consequences for my actions and how whatever happens next will be my fault. And then she went ahead and didn’t even punish me so, who’s laughing without consequences now?”

 

Federico snorted. “ _ Jesucristo _ , she must’ve been angry if she managed to be  _ that  _ forgetful. Seriously, papà didn’t punish you either? Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“Che palle! No need to wonder who the favourite is, then, you spoiled little shit.”

 

Ezio swiftly grabbed the pillow under his head, sat up and threw it straight at Federico’s head. It hit with a satisfying smack and an even more satisfying “ _ Arck! _ ” from his brother. He wasted no time lobbing it back at Ezio and took advantage of the distraction deflecting it caused to straddle his knees so he could attack Ezio’s middle, the only place where he was ticklish. Ezio retaliated by grabbing one of his shoulders and his hair and both pulled and pushed, with a righteous yell of fury, Federico down to the side in an attempt to try and get him stuck on his stomach. Federico would, naturally, not take that lying down and elbowed Ezio in the side to get himself time enough to get back up. Their mock-wrestling continuing for some time, until Federico was declared the victor, knee between Ezio’s shoulder blades to get him to  _ stay  _ down. 

 

“Straniero!” 

 

“ _ Yield,  _ you bastard!” 

 

“ _ Vaffanculo _ !” 

 

“ **Yield!** ”

 

“ _ OW, fuck _ , I  _ yield _ !” 

 

Federico laughed in triumph, falling backwards onto the bed to rest. Ezio sat up as soon as he was off. His face was flushed red, as much from defeat as from exertion, and almost all of his hair had fallen out of it’s bow, falling instead in a messy, half curtain over his face. He brushed it away, but it fell down again as soon as he took his hand away. 

 

“What are you gonna do, then?” Federico asked, between panting for air. 

 

“What?”

 

“Idiot, about what happened today! Are you going to stop going out?”

 

Ezio laughed. “What? No! Why would I?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Federico said sarcastically, “To avoid any future castrations?”

 

He snorted. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just go back to being sneaky.”

 

“You’re not gonna—”

 

“Say ‘go to the brothels’ and I’ll strangle you with my fucking bow, just watch me.”

 

“What? It’s a valid question!”

 

“You’re the third person to ask me that today!”

 

“Well, then I’m glad that you have at least three intelligent people in your life, it might do you some good to listen to us for a change.”

 

“Ha, ha. It’s not the same, you know that. Anyone can pay a prostitute—”

 

Federico rolled his eyes. “I know, but not everyone can seduce someone. I  _ know.  _ Still, maybe you could switch it up again. You’re running out of girls to seduce.”

 

Ezio laughed. “Then I’ll just have to look elsewhere! Who knows, maybe I’ve overlooked someone.”

 

* * *

 

 

He went to di Ser Piero the next day, almost as soon as he could. The tension from the day before hadn’t completely gone from their house just yet, and he was eager to escape it, if only for a moment. He had been sluggish in waking that morning, as if his body was fighting against itself to stop him from waking up. He only vaguely remembered blinking blearily at the sun and rolling over to escape its wrathful rays, but waking up again and again as it rose higher in the sky until he had finally snapped and launched himself out of bed. To say that he woke up on the wrong side that morning would not, then, be an understatement. The final kicker had arrived when he sat down in front of his mirror, rubbing the gravel in his eyes from sleep, only to see that the spot his mother had slapped him had bruised. A slap… had been powerful enough to  _ bruise.  _ Fucking hell, how was her palm faring, then? He hoped it stung. 

 

This had all left him with an even shorter patience than usual, short enough that he nearly exploded when Claudia just looked at him snidely. Furious for what felt like a better reason than it was, he had said nothing, then stormed off back to his room. He strapped the sandal to his belt and went about seeing if he could climb with his arm. 

 

As luck would have it, he could. Finally, something that didn’t actively work against him. It was shallow enough to have scabbed over by then and wouldn’t open unless he did something spectacularly stupid. Which, no, he wouldn’t, he was only a really colossal idiot about a month or so. It was too much of a hassle to cause the amount of trouble required for that. 

 

It turned out to have only been the pain that stopped him from climbing the day before, as he managed it with ease that day. Even if it did sting at times. Joyed that he was no longer confined to the streets, he soared through the air over the orange and red brick tiles of the Firenze skyline. 

 

He nearly missed the artist’s studio, so distracted was he by his run. Nothing cleared your head better than getting breathless. 

 

He hung from the edge of the roof in front of one of the windows to the studio. He let go long enough to pull at the edge of the window pane to get it to open. Lo and behold, it did, and Ezio wasted no time to swing his way inside. So many people were so wholly focused on locking their doors, they forgot to lock their windows, too. Leonardo’s workshop had a very high ceiling, high enough to fit another floor there, so it smarted at Ezio’s ankles when he landed on the floor with a heavy thump. It took only a short while for di Ser Piero to appear before him, beckoned by the noise, and Ezio almost laughed out loud at the way his eyes boggled. 

 

“What on  _ earth _ —what’s wrong with my door?!”

 

“The roof is faster,” Ezio grinned. “Less foot traffic.”

 

“ _ It’s faster _ , he says. Wait, you ran on top of the buildings all the way here?” Ezio nodded. “ _ Why _ ? No, nevermind, the question is  _ how? _ !”

 

“I just told you,” he huffed. “It’s faster. And a lot of fun. As for the how, I just scaled the side of my house and then ran. And jumped, a bit.”

 

“Good lord. Alright,” di Ser Piero said, though he still looked very sceptical. “What happened to your  _ face? _ Was it the same father, or did you find a new girl last night?” 

 

“Oh, this? No, that’s my reward for the night before. It didn’t surprise me, much, I knew my mother would be unhappy. What surprised me was that it  _ bruised.  _  Now I know who I get my strength from!” He laughed. di Ser Piero smiled in returned, but it was strained. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but couldn’t decide what to say. Ezio decided not to wait, and so pulled the sandal from his belt. 

 

“I’m here to return this, I thought I’d do it as soon as possible or I’d end up forgetting it entirely. Thank you so much, again, for lending it to me. You’re a kind man, messere di Ser Piero.”

 

He accepted the shoe with a now much more genuine smile. “I try to be. And I told you before, I’m happy to help. How is that cut treating you?”

 

“It barely pains me,” Ezio said honestly. “Whatever you did to it must’ve worked—without bleeding me too, which is a definite improvement on most of my visits to a dottore.”

 

The corners of the artist’s mouth stiffened and his brows were drawn closer. He shook his head, “As ingenious as a lot of modern medicine is, that is one aspect of it that I’ve never understood. ‘Someone is suffering from blood loss, let’s bleed them some more’.”

 

Ezio shrugged. “I haven’t thought about it. I mean, I haven’t died from it so far, so it must be working.”

 

di Ser Piero huffed. “That does seem to be the general consensus. Come, I want to see if the cut needs rebandaging, while we’re on the subject.” He gestured Ezio towards a seat which he gladly took.  “I’ll just fetch the supplies,” he said, striding across the room to where he had left them the day before. Ezio, meanwhile, rolled up his sleeve. 

 

“How is the masochistic portrait coming along?” he asked, nodding to where the easel stood. 

 

Leonardo laughed at his description and walked over to him again, setting the supplies on top of a pile of papers on the closest table. “As well as can be expected. By that, I mean that it’s nearly finished, but by God do I almost wish it weren’t. It’s a work hazard, I fear, having to stare at that face for so long.”

 

“Well, I’m here now,” Ezio joked, “so take the chance to get your fill of handsomeness while you can.”

 

Leonardo shot him a wry look of amusement as he began to peel away the old bandages. “How magnanimous of you. Quite the philanthropist.”

 

“Like I always say, I love to please.”

 

Leonardo snorted softly in amusement. He went to tug the last of the wrappings off, but found it to be stuck. Ezio winced at the sharp tug at his skin. The bandages closest to the wound would have to be wetted, or they might rip the cut open. 

 

“Hang on,” he said. He went to fetch a bowl of water from the bucket he had brought in from the well that morning. While doing so he called over to Ezio, asking, “Apart from that bloom on your cheek, were you in much trouble? If you don’t mind me asking.”

 

“Hah, not as much as I expected, honestly. My father was much the same when he was my age, so he can’t say much without sounding like a hypocrite and he knows it. He did sprout some nonsense about me being– anyway, he only had a little to say, but that was it. Mother was in a rage, which I  _ did  _ expect. But apart from this and some choice words she… forgot.”

 

Leonardo dragged a chair to Ezio’s side for himself to sit on, getting back to work on getting the bandage off. “Forgot?”

 

“Forgot to  _ actually  _ punish me. She just said that whatever happens to that girl is on my head. Honestly, I don’t know how she can think me to be  _ that  _ stupid. I  _ do  _ know not to do anything to risk having bastards. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a bastard, I mean you’re fantastic—,” Leonardo choked on a sudden gasp of laughter, “—but I think mother would kill me if I had any. Also, I’m not ready to be a father. So I’m confident in saying she won’t face any consequences for that.”

 

Leonardo chuckled, but this time it was without humour. “For that, maybe. But your mother is still right. What’s the girl’s name?”

 

Ezio frowned. “Rachele. What do you mean she’s right?”

 

“It is a sad fact of life that not everybody has such understanding and forgiving parents,” Leonardo smiled sadly. “I hope just it’s the convent for Rachele, rather than something else.” The bandages were finally off; bloody, but not worryingly so. With a fresh wound, it was to be expected. He cleaned the dried blood of the cut as well, before he could take a proper look at it. 

 

“… What do you mean?”

 

Leonardo met his eyes with a look that could only be described as disbelief. Eyes wide open, eyebrows furrowed, mouth hanging open as if as if to speak but with no sound forthcoming. Whatever he found in Ezio’s eyes in turn, it made him shut down. He tore his eyes away from Ezio’s and locked them firmly to the wound instead. “Nevermind,” was all he said. “This looks like it will heal quickly.” The skin around the cut was flushed pink, by the natural inflammation. The cut itself had scabbed over and that showed that it had, indeed, been worse than it looked. It was thin and not very long. Going by the look of the scab it would be a neat, clean scar—as long as it didn’t end up infected after all. 

 

Why was it that no one could tell him something clear? Why was it that people’s meanings were only ever hinted at, teased, dangled over his head only to slap him and say that he was stupid for not understanding their riddles? Consequences this, consequences that, you’ll know soon enough this, do you seriously not get it that. Maybe he might consider what they had to say more if they just  _ fucking said it.  _ He was a man now, that’s what everybody kept telling him. You’re a man now, so you should understand this one thing we never explained to you, this one thing you asked us about years ago and all we had to say was “you’ll get it when you’re older”, or “we’ll tell you when you’re older”. When? How much older did he have to get? Would he have to grow shrivelled and grey before someone deigned themselves to actually  _ tell  _ him things—when would they stop calling him “man” and start treating them like one?

 

_ Consequences _ , mamma had said.  _ You need to realise that your actions have consequences _ . Maybe they should start by actually making him face those consequences. Maybe they shouldn’t blame him for not seeing them when they had sheltered him from them all his life. How much more could he fuck up before they stopped treating him like a child and actually let him take on the world?

 

“Please don’t treat me like a kid, I get enough of that from my family,” Ezio said. “I’m not as dumb as you think. What did you mean?”

 

di Ser Piero’s hand stilled. For seconds that felt like years, he was frozen, even his chest had stilled as he stopped breathing. He then deflated, slowly, silently. 

 

“You really don’t know—do you?” There was no malice to his eyes. No mocking in his voice. Still Ezio felt humiliated and his breath hitched. He felt his face and hands burn with it, a sudden urge to get up, to move, fight, gripped him hard. 

 

“Everyone keeps  _ saying that _ , and then they don’t tell me,” he said, voice razor sharp with the urge to lash out. Leonardo… looked pitying. That humiliated him, too, but the strangeness of it kept him from boiling over. It was unfair to him, too, Ezio knew. He couldn’t know how Ezio felt, and neither was it his job to inform him of or to teach him anything. Most likely, he was careful of his words because he feared that Ezio would consider him out of line. 

 

“That’s counterproductive,” Leonardo said. 

 

Ezio sighed. “Yeah, I’m—sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, it’s not you that I am angry with.”

 

“It’s alright,” Leonardo replied, “I understand.” He sounded like he meant it, too.

 

Ezio sighed, grateful. “So what is it that I don’t know?”

 

“Why don’t, why don’t you begin? Tell me what you think is going to happen to her. I’ll fill in the blanks.”

 

That’s—huh. He hadn’t actually thought about that. What he might already know. “I mean… I don’t know. She’ll have a curfew, probably. Not allowed to go somewhere alone. She’ll definitely get yelled at, like I did. Likely worse than I did, though. At best. I’m not too much of an idiot to know that life is harder on a non-virgin girl than a man. At worst, she’ll join a nunnery.” He shuddered at the thought. He wasn’t very keen on marriage. Maybe at one point, but not for years yet. But to have that choice denied completely, and to be denied another’s touch for the rest of your life… no, thank you. He’d keel over of frustration after a month.  

 

“Ezio… she should be glad to only become a nun. Has she any sisters?”

 

Ezio was taken aback. “Glad?  _ Only _ ? What— _ yes _ , she has a sister. Why?”

 

“Then it’s likely that she will end up taking the vows, to restore some honour to her family name. I—do you know anything about my work with the women of La Rosa Colta?”

 

He let out a short laugh. “Yes, your  _ work. _ ” He grinned, imagining anything but work. “But no, I don’t.” 

 

The artist’s expression became pinched. “Yes, my  _ work.  _ They make for wonderful models when my inspiration is lacking. And spending hours sketching someone, it’s only natural that a lot of the time I end up getting to know the women quite well. And I,” he took a deep breath, “I’ve heard so many of their stories. They all vary of course, but there’s one theme that runs among most of the… sadder ones. And that is the, ‘I fell in love with’ or ‘was seduced by a handsome young man and, for one reason or another, I was discovered laying with him out of wedlock and was promptly thrown out of my home and forced to make my own way, and this is all I have now’. Many of them were beaten before being thrown out. Some got to choose, become a nun or make your own way. Some would gladly marry God in place of becoming a courtesan. Others would choose anything else, as long as it meant that they got to make that choice for themselves.”

 

“I’m…” What? What was he? The unwitting villain of someone else’s story? “Surely that’s not the only way? I had—a woman, who was discovered with me like Rachele was, but she is happily married now.” Happily for her, maybe. With Ezio left behind in the dust. 

 

Leonardo gave him a sympathetic, knowing smile. “We can’t all be Cristina Vespucci, my friend.” Of course he knew. Was there nothing that he did not know? “She had men lining up and down the street for her hand. Unfortunately we can’t all be so desirable that our vices are naught but dust in the wind to greater society. You and her had that in common. The rest of us are far more mortal, I’m afraid. And she wasn’t without consequence entirely, that marriage  _ was  _ a bit sudden, was it not?”

 

“Yes, but—it was on her terms. She told me as much.” It had shattered his heart completely. To hear her repeatedly say  _ I love you  _ in the same breath as  _ but I am marrying this man, and you won’t change my mind.  _ And then she had moved away, to make it all the more painful. His world had been turned upside down because of her in a matter of weeks. 

 

“As you say,” Leonardo said, eyes back to focusing on the bandage which he now finished wrapping around Ezio’s arm. “After all, you were the one that knew her.” Knew. Not know; knew, because he might have thought he knew her, he might have actually known her, but he didn’t. Not anymore. He rolled down his sleeve. 

 

“Thank you for the help,” Ezio said, standing up. He hoped that Leonardo would catch that he was thanking him for his words as well as his continued care. He didn’t know yet if the knowledge he’d been given was something to truly be thankful for; he was instead thankful that he had actually bothered to try to explain. Though the revelations cut deep, especially that he could unintentionally have harmed many young girls beyond pardon, as did the words themselves—they had not been said in cruelty, but out of compassion. Leonardo di Ser Piero was exactly that: compassionate. At times, brutally honest, but never cruel. “I should go.”

 

Leonardo nodded. He hesitated, moved as if to speak, then shook his head minutely. “Goodbye,” was all he said. 

 

Ezio nodded back, but he lingered for a few seconds more. He, too, felt as if he needed to say something, but he didn’t know what. Without another word, he made for the door. 

 

“Ezio—“

 

He turned back around at the sound of Leonardo’s voice. His hands were clasped tightly and it took him another moment to continue to speak. “I am sorry if I speak out of turn. I trust that you know that I’m not telling you these things out of malice—“

 

“I know.”

 

Leonardo smiled ruefully at his firm assurance. “Good… because I know it’s not my place to try to teach you anything. You are not my student, I’m not your equal in social standing, I’m not a member of your family. So, I want to ask for your permission to teach you something else.”

 

Ezio had stepped closer without even thinking about it, coming almost to Leonardo’s side again. But the few meters between them still felt far. He was quick to reply, “Of course.”

 

di Ser Piero breathed out, a long and slow breath to catch his beating. “Never accept an unsatisfying answer. Or no answer at all. Not knowing because no one has taught you doesn’t make you stupid, the true fool is always the one who belittles another for their unwilling ignorance.” Another beat. “I didn’t receive the same education that you had— _ have.  _ I’ve been called unintelligent because of that before. You have advantages that not many others have. Use it. Not knowing is one thing, wilful ignorance is another. Don’t ever let yourself go this blind on something else, when you can easily see just by looking around you. If one person doesn’t have answers, ask another. If no one has them, seek them somewhere else. But nobody can  _ teach  _ you how to ask, or what to look for. I think… you could become formidable, if you only learnt to ask, ask often, and to not let anyone stand in the way in your pursuit for truths.”

 

_ Don’t let yourself go this blind _ —because he had been. He still was. Was that what his mother had meant when she spoke of how every action has consequences? That they all did, but not necessarily for him, and that only the wilful blindness, ignorance, on his part had kept them unknown from him? He had meant no harm, he never would—but he had caused it, nevertheless.

 

“You may not be an Auditore,” Ezio said, “But I would be honoured to consider you a friend. Leonardo. Honestly? Your honesty is a fresh change of pace for me.”

 

“Oh dear, and here I’ve been feeding you nothing but lies. Shame.”

 

It was corny, terrible really, but still the attempt at humour was a very welcome change from the dour mood that seemed to seep its way into every corner of his life lately; he laughed, though the joke was poor and he really ought not to. Soon, Leonardo laughed too. With him or at him, it didn’t matter. It felt nice all the same. 

 

* * *

 

Once home, Ezio sought out his mother. Had he another option, he would have taken it. But unfortunately, she was the only one he knew that had some sort of relationship with Leonardo di Ser Piero. For better or worse, the man could not leave his mind on his entire way home. He would have assumed that learning truths he had before been blind to would weigh heavier on his mind than the man who had spoken them, but he would assume wrong. The way he said them, the fact that he had answered Ezio when he asked him to, the care in his gaze, the final advice he paid him; it was strange. Befuddling. He knew not what to make of it, of him, of anything.

Ezio found his mother taking care off the family books inside of the study, haven taken his father’s seat as well as role, which she did whenever he was not there do it. Which, given his business, was often. Suddenly very starkly reminded of the last conversation he had in that room, he lingered on the threshold until Maria called, “Enter”. 

 

“Hello, mamma,” he greeted. 

 

She looked up and placed her quill back in its holder. The anger he had seen in her the day before was gone, but some of the stiffness remained. Wariness, he judged, by the way her eyes seemed to look  _ through  _ him rather than at him; most likely trying to deduce whether or not Ezio came bearing troubling news. She must have found him satisfactorily not up-to-no-good, as she pleasantly inclined her head.

 

“Ezio,” she said, “Did you need something?”

 

“If you’re not too busy,” he replied.

 

“I always am, so we might as well speak now. Come inside, sit.”

 

Ezio did as bid, closing the door behind him and taking the offered seat. “I promise it’s not too important,” he said.

 

Maria quirked a brow. “Evidently important enough to come to me about it. What’s on your mind?”

 

“Curiosity mostly,” he admitted, “About your friend di Ser Piero. I told you about how helpful he was to me—”

 

“Against his better judgement, I assume.” Ha.

 

“Ha. I was just wondering how you met him, mamma.”

 

His mother hummed in thought, chin slightly raised. She smiled, “He came at the recommendation of a friend. He is quite the darling among our social circle. Most social circles, I hear.”

 

“… A darling?” he repeated the word in disbelief. That made him sound more like a pet than a craftsman. 

 

His mother nodded. “He is quite charming. Usually artists can be a bit aloof, or nauseatingly sycophantic. Which is understandable, when their livelihood depends on being friends with both noblemen and the church itself. Not an easy task when they’re easy to offend, as you know. You cannot succeed if you are unlikeable, so being eager to please and free with compliments are at times more valuable than your actual work, unfortunately. Leonardo, however, I have found to be genuine. Genuinely kind, charming, witty. It is very refreshing.”

 

Ezio huffed in amusement. “How would you even know he’s genuine?”

 

Her smile turned wry. “Get to be my age and you will learn to see the difference, I promise you.”

 

“Your age? Mamma, you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

 

“Hush, Ezio. Compliments will get you nothing from me. Now, why this sudden interest in Leonardo? You barely spared him a thought when you first met.”

 

“Maybe I would have if I hadn’t been relegated to the role of donkey,” he quipped. The lack of reaction to his joke had him backpedal. “He is—interesting. Unusual, like you said, he’s incredibly genuine. I’d like to get to know him better.”

 

“Truly? You surprise me. I can’t remember the last time you had a genuine interest in someone without intending to know them  _ carnally _ .” Oh, there it was. She must’ve nearly sprained something with the effort to keep it in that long. Wouldn’t do to go five minutes without reminding your son that he was a whore, now would it?

 

“Mamma...”

 

“I wish I could say I was only teasing,” she said brusquely, with her face unmoving. “I am happy you have taken a liking to someone that’s more than physical—” she pronounced the word the same way one would a curse, “—for once, though. Although you must be careful not to pressure di Ser Piero. Though he is sociable and kindly dispositioned, he is a very private man. Don’t impose on him.”

 

“So what you’re saying is, I shouldn’t annoy him?” No shit. He really hadn’t been able to figure that out himself, thank you ever so much. 

 

She tapped the nails on her right hand against the wood of the desk. The clicking noise they produced made Ezio wince. “Just so,” she said. “So try to be on your best behaviour, if you do go to visit him again.”

 

Ezio put a hand over his heart. “Then I solemnly swear I will do my utmost to not be myself.”

 

“That would be for the best, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the negative effect ezio has on the women he seduces wasn't going to be a theme at all until my very knowledgeable historian friend said "hey did you know one in eight women in renaissance italy were nuns because dowries were so expensive that if you only had daughters you could only marry one of them off without becoming poor? so if you were the youngest sister and had no brothers, you were p much guaranteed to end up a nun. once a nun you could become a business woman or patron of the arts or a craftsman, you had a lot of freedom in some ways but you were basically cut off from your family indefinitely."   
> my first response was "oh no :(" and then, once i realised that i literally began this fic with ezio seducing someone and having the entire town know about it, i went "OH NOOOO" and "I'M COMPLICIT"


	4. Schiacciata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do me!"
> 
> "Excuse me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ezio the cool more like boo boo the fool 
> 
> i began this whole enterprise trying to make the characters at Least sound like they didn't step out of a vine compilation and fell on their ass in renaissance italy but oh well. this is my life now. i'm even trying to NOT let them say "okay" since that wasn't a word until the 19th century, but i have thrown effort out of the window. in short, i am a clown and this story represents that

Of course, if Leonardo minded Ezio being himself, or found him annoying, then he ought to quit painting and make a living on the stage. Because, contrary to what Leonardo’s other friends apparently would’ve guessed (if his mother accurately reflected most of them), Leonardo seemed to quite enjoy it when Ezio was himself. Ezio was firmly not on his good behaviour when around Leonardo. He talked loudly, expressively and not always cleanely. He was  _ physical  _ by often grasping Leonardo’s shoulder or arm, sometimes his hands, while talking or in greeting or parting, or for no reason at all.  

 

(And even if Leonardo wasn’t as physical with Ezio as Ezio was with him, then that was fine—he never shrugged his touch off, or stated or even implied that he would like Ezio to stop. In fact, if those tiny and distressingly nice smiles were anything to go by, he welcomed Ezio’s touch.)

 

Ezio very rudely continued to drop into his workshop by way of That Window without ever giving any prior warning. Sometimes that meant that Leonardo wasn’t there, but that only gave Ezio the opportunity to nap in that one good chair Leonardo kept by the fireplace, or snoop around his latest works in order to comment on it or ask about it once Leonardo returned, launching them both into some conversation or other—not always about the work. They could spawn conversations about anything under the sun from an observation about the weather. Ezio loved it when he complained about some socialite or other and it turned out that Leonardo thoroughly disliked them, too. He always had the  _ best  _ gossip, even if his willingness to talk smack only extended to those he found morally lacking in some way. 

 

Ezio was not on his best behavior whenever Leonardo worked. The portrait of the ugly masochist was continually labeled “that ugly masochist” until it was completed and gone from the studio before he had a chance to say goodbye. (He had planned to give a toast in its honour before it left, damn it. The  ugly man deserved one last cheap dig at his expense! He’d been forced to give the toast to the empty easel and it just wasn’t the same, even if Leonardo did still find it hilarious.) The next commission was an engagement portrait and that received the same level of disrespect and distraction à la Ezio.

 

(“What’s with all the portraits? Do you hate fun?”

 

“I  _ like  _ being paid, since I very much enjoy not starving. That means I can’t be picky.”

 

“What’s with the book in the background?”

 

“I don’t know, but they wanted one there so I’m painting it.”

 

“Which book is it?”

 

“A bible.”

 

“Damn, even God must think the people paying for this are boring.”

 

“I don’t think God even knows who this woman is.”

 

“Oh, ouch.”)

 

Ezio was, firmly, not on his best behaviour and was, firmly, himself. But still Leonardo never gave him the look that let Ezio know that he should stop. Because there were three looks Ezio was used to from friends:

 

There was the  _ I-don’t-actually-like-you _ look that he got from some, the one that meant that they realised that being friends with him could benefit them in some way, but that that was the only reason they were friendly with him. Leonardo didn’t look at him like that, not ever. Instead he bestowed upon Ezio the second look, the simple and all around pleasant  _ I-like-you _ . Never, not once, did Ezio doubt that Leonardo was only schmoozing him up for some other purpose. Never did he think that he only allowed Ezio to call him friend and clasp his shoulder because he wanted to be friends with the son of a powerful man. Never did Ezio doubt the truthfulness of his smiles. 

 

(The third look was the one that said  _ kiss-and-or-fuck-me _ , but that was something generally used by girls and therefore irrelevant to look for from Leonardo.)

 

The cut on Ezio’s arm healed quickly under Leonardo’s daily-even-though-they-really-weren’t-necessary ministrations, which left Ezio without excuses to continue with his daily visits. Which, of course, left him with the real reason: Leonardo was now his friend. His best friend, in fact. He now knew the route to the workshop deep in the muscles of his legs, the soles of his feet, the strength in his fingers and shoulders when he hoisted himself through the open window. The look of bemusement on Leonardo’s face and what might even be envy at the ability made using the window worth it every time. 

 

Ezio was not without friends. As much as most of his family still seemed to be on the fence about him after eighteen years, he had no trouble making himself liked. People  _ wanted  _ to be his friend sometimes, even, they sought him out with friendship in mind. But he always socialised with them in groups, rarely one on one. Those sorts of interactions were usually reserved for his family (who knew him best), for his teachers… or for women. A very specific group of women. 

 

But that last sort of  _ interaction  _ had become—not rare, but not quite as much of a common occurrence as before in the weeks he had been friends with Leonardo. Their distractions were still as enjoyable as ever, and he hadn’t been as reckless lately either (the scar on his right arm served as a very physical reminder, of sorts), but that was no longer the only way he could escape his everyday life anymore. The void Cristina had left in him, the void which had made him lash out so often and so desperately, had been rather abruptly filled by his mother’s eccentric artist friend. 

 

… Ezio’s own eccentric artist friend, as it now turned out. 

 

Shallow embraces of a temporary companion wasn’t his only escape anymore. Because, compared to his usual companions, friendship with Leonardo di Ser Piero turned out to be a different kind of creature altogether. There were no one else there to act as a buffer, or to grab either’s attention if they became far too focused on one single subject. There weren’t any barriers of any kind like the ones between him and his parents, or his younger siblings. He could talk about anything. And so they did. 

 

(He even began visiting brothels again, instead of risking both himself and any paramour. The need for companionship was filled by his new friend, which only left the other more physical need. For that, the brothels were adequate, no matter how boring.)

 

Him and his friends kept a shallow kind of company. They drank, played, sang, they were loud, inhibitionless, hedonistic. Not that it was lesser in any way at all. If he did not enjoy it, if he did not like them, he wouldn’t be doing it. It was only different. He knew their likes and dislikes, as they knew his. They knew him to be loud, friendly, thrill seeking, passionate in all matters (be it in anger or more decidedly uncatholic feelings). Their friendships were simple and simple was good. Simple was rejuvenating and a wonderful diversion of all ailments of the heart—he could forget himself among them, and that was a valuable thing. 

 

Leonardo, instead, made it impossible to forget himself. 

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, when Leonardo wasn’t working… he was still working. He insisted that he wasn’t, of course, because all work he did which he wasn’t paid for wasn’t actually work, according to him. 

 

_ Oh, this blueprint for a machine of some kind? I just had an idea that I needed to get out of my head. It’s a funny story, really, let me explain— _

 

Or,

 

_ Yes, my actual profession is ‘artist’. Yes, I am sketching right now and yes, sketching is a form of art. No, I’m not working.  _ Blah, blah, I’m a workaholic, do you feel lazy yet?

 

Ezio didn’t feel lazy, actually. Which was almost funny, because it was only natural really that anyone should feel threatened by the insane level of productivity Leonardo had, even if not all of it was marketable. No, instead he was just concerned that Leonardo would work so hard he would get grey hairs before turning thirty and as dignified as it would make him look, those sun-bleached blonde tresses were just delightful enough that they needed to stay around for at least another decade. Or two. Ezio wasn’t picky. He wasn’t jealous of Leonardo’s lovely and rare colouring, either, or of his general good looks. That would mean that he felt threatened, which he most assuredly did  _ not.  _ He was well aware of how handsome he himself was. He didn’t have angelic blue eyes, so what? His own were  _ deep _ , the kind that you could drown in (as a drunk girl had once described them. Drunk girls were generally the most poetic people around, he had found. Sober compliments were variations of handsome and charming. Drunk girls told him that his skin was silk, or that his hair was a  _ forest _ for some reason. One girl named Helena has likened his eyes to a wishing well and that you had to be careful what you wished for of Ezio, because you just might get it. Helena had also vomited over his shoes. Drunk girls: amazing human beings. Men got violent and loud, women would tell you seemingly deep things and slur well wishes before passing out.)

 

No, as he had thought as well as told Leonardo before, the only negative feelings Ezio held towards Leonardo was the fact that he refused to share his looks with the world. That perfect looking man needed to be complimented by a veritable horde of drunk girls. He didn’t necessarily have to sleep around like Ezio, just as long as he got out more. Alas, it was a hopeless cause. It wouldn’t have been as terrible if Leonardo took breaks sometimes. 

 

But he didn’t. He worked and insisted that he wasn’t working. It was driving Ezio up a wall. 

 

“Switch places with me,” Ezio told his frustrating friend. 

 

Leonardo’s hand stilled and he looked up from his sketch. “Excuse me?”

 

“Switch with me! I want do the doodling for now.”

 

“It’s not  _ doodling.  _ And you wouldn’t be switching anything, I’m not sketching you,” Leonardo said, to which Ezio snorted. 

 

“A horrible decision, really. I’m exquisite.”

 

Leonardo looked thoroughly unimpressed. Ezio sighed. “Please? Pretty please? I just want to try it.” Leonardo only continued to stare, deadpanned, at him. Ezio just stared right back. He was not budging on this. Finally, Leonardo’s shoulders dropped and he said, “Alright, but you’re only getting  _ one _ piece of paper! Use it well.” He got a fresh sheet ready and handed it and the piece of charcoal he had been using over to Ezio, who brightened up like a small child seeing a pony for the first time. 

 

“I’ve  _ never  _ drawn anything before,” Ezio said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. Leonardo’s eyes grew wider. 

 

“Really? Not once?”

 

“Not once! I was never interested, and my parents wouldn’t have been exactly thrilled about any of their children taking up the arts when there are ‘ _ far nobler’  _ professions out there.”

 

“That’s a suitably vague description,” Leonardo noted. 

 

Ezio nodded. “They tried to make it sound like they were talking about a lot of different jobs, but really what they were saying was  _ you better become a banker, you little devil. _ ”

 

Leonardo laughed. “Little devil!” he said delightedly. “It suits you!”

 

Ezio smiled crookedly. “Not such a little devil anymore though, am I?”

 

“Yes you are,” Leonardo smiled. “Especially since you haven’t started drawing yet, despite pleading for it.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Sit however you like, I’m going to  _ nail  _ you…r likeness on this paper. Just you wait,” he said, promptly drawing a circle. Then promptly asked himself, why on earth did he draw a circle for? He looked up at Leonardo, who was slumped back in his chair, with one elbow slung up to rest on the back of it. It was a highly unusual pose, compared to how he normally sat. “What are you doing?”

 

“Can’t you tell?” Leonardo asked. “I’m sitting like you.”

 

“No, you’re not!”

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

“No, you’re not! I sit the way I do because it’s comfortable, but it just makes you look stressed. ”

 

Leonardo visibly struggled not to smile as he sank so low in his chair he was almost laying down. “How about now?”

 

“You look like you’ve been smoking opium.” Come to think of it, how would Leonardo act if he did? He hadn’t ever even seen the man drunk, but he couldn’t begin to imagine what that would be like. If he would become chatty, or moody or one of those who declared their undying love to everyone and everything. He wouldn’t get aggressive, though, that much he knew. Leonardo didn’t have a vicious bone in his body. Despite how many times Ezio invited him out, though, he never came along. He didn’t think that it was due to Leonardo objecting to alcohol; if that was it, then he would have said so. Ezio suspected that it had more to do with Ezio’s friends than how they spent their time. One day, when he had gained enough goodwill at home to stay away at night, he was going to bring enough wine to the studio to make Jesus hesitate. He hadn’t had a party of just two, before, but if good company and high spirits was all a party needed to be a party, then it wouldn’t matter. 

 

He was brought out of planning when Leonardo barked out a laugh. “Alright, wait.” He got up and turned the chair over, so that the back of it was facing Ezio before straddling it and laying his arms crossed over the back. “Do I look relaxed now?”

 

“Not as relaxed as the last person I saw sitting that,” because the last person who did had been straddling  _ him _ , “but you look suitably carefree and rebellious.” He raised the piece of coal like a sword and stared intently at the paper and— 

 

How the fuck do you draw? Where do you _ start? _ These were questions he had never asked himself before or thought he had needed to. As it turned out, thinking this whole thing through before demanding Leonardo let Ezio draw him might have been a good idea. He stared at the crude, uneven circle in the middle of the paper, imploring it for answers it could not give. 

 

The sound of Leonardo clearing his throat snapped Ezio’s head back up. 

 

Leonardo was aiming one of those small smiles where only the right half of his mouth was upturned at him. He must have recognised the meaning behind Ezio’s shell shocked pose, because he said, “I usually begin by outlining the head and then the rest of the body. The details come later, once you have a base.”

 

Ezio stared at Leonardo, then down at the paper again. “Thanks… I’ll try.” He put the coal to the paper, on the lower line of the circle, and tried. He tried his absolute best. 

 

Which, as it turned out, was not very good at all. In fact, it was horrible. “I don’t understand how you make this look so easy,” he whined, trying to somewhat improve the sausage shape that was supposed to be Leonardo’s left forearm. 

 

“Practice,” was Leonardo’s answer. “Lots and lots of practice. With enough time, dedication and practice, anyone could become a master at anything. I started drawing early and have kept at it ever since.”

 

“Now I know you’re lying! I’ve been practising Latin for  _ years _ now, and I’m still horrible at it.”

 

His friend chuckled. “Like I said, dedication is needed, too. Theoretically, anyone could become a master at anything, yes, but we don’t. Because the only way you can stand doing it for so long and practising it over and over is if you love it with your whole being. Anything less than adoration for what you do and practicing it will only bring more unhappiness. That’s how I’ve found it, at least.”

 

The sketch looked more like a pile of sausages and some meatballs on a tree stump than it did even remotely resemble a person. “Don’t tell my parents that, I think their philosophy of life is to be just content enough that you want to keep living.”

 

His friend sighed. “They share that with most of society. I believe a lot of us have badly misread the Christian call to ‘find joy in your station’ as ‘actively try to be miserable’. It’s a shame, God’s creations are too beautiful to not take part of.”

 

“I  _ agree _ ,” Ezio leered. 

 

Leonardo huffed. “I meant nature.”

 

“I could teach you about the birds and the bees.”

 

Leonardo quirked a brow. “Thank you, but I don’t trust you to not include demonstrations.”

 

“I think active student participation is more important,” Ezio deadpanned. “There’s no greater teacher than actual experience.” There was no way he was salvaging his sketch. It was his first try, but it looked a lot like something a child would draw. A disturbed child, who didn’t know what straight lines were. Or chairs. Or  _ humans.  _ He usually had to try to create comedy, but that spectacular creation has just sprung forth from his fingertips completely by accident. “Behold,” he said, grinning widely, “I have created a masterpiece!” he declared, flipping the page so that his friend could see it and holding it out triumphantly. 

 

Leonardo, whose ears had turned red when Ezio wasn’t looking, for some reason, leaned forward over the chair to peer at the paper. Then the image startled a sharp, delighted laugh from him. “ _ Meraviglioso _ ! I have been surpassed!” he cried, chest shaking from cheer. He stretched out a hand and Ezio passed it between them. Leonardo took in the image, one hand across his mouth. His eyes were bright and moving across the picture like a flash as he continued to shake. 

 

“In all seriousness, I feel flattered. My hat looks like a ham. It’s marvellous.”

 

“I am brimming with talent,” Ezio said, referring to the fact that he had succeeded in his endeavour; to make Leonardo laugh. “Now you do me!”

 

The laughter fizzled out and Leonardo calmed. “Excuse me?”

 

“Sketch me! Just tell me what pose to strike, are we thinking heroic? Pensive? Soulful? Sexy? No, forget sexy, I’ll be sexy no matter what pose I do.”

 

“I’m picturing you as a pouty, lusty looking cherub and I’m sorry to say, it’s not working for me.”

 

“That’s because you’ve never seen me in a loincloth,” Ezio said, then winked just because. 

 

Leonardo made a soft noise of amusement before sighing. “Alright,” he acquiesced. “Nothing elaborate, though, I’ll probably just sketch your face. We need to move your chair, though, so that you’re in the light.”

 

Bright joy, pure  _ giddiness  _ filled his chest like flashes of sunlight and he jumped out of his chair. Sit in the light? No problem, Leonardo, he was going to be a pure fucking delight. He lifted the chair and placed it where the sun would hit his face from his right and cast the left into shadows if he stared straight ahead. Leonardo turned his chair to follow, but now so that it wasn’t facing him with the back of it, anymore. 

 

“Sit however you want,” he said, “I just need a minute.”

 

Ezio took that as permission to melt over the chair like a decadent ancient Roman on a klinê. Legs spread, his arm on the back of the chair like Leonardo had tried before, he rested his chin in his hand and let the other hand fall to his thigh. Here, he could feel the warmth of the sun magnified through the window and it felt a lot like a promise against his skin. A promise of a proper spring, and then summer to follow; a meek prelude to the life it would bring, when it didn’t need a pane of glass to warm you. He turned his face towards the soft rays like a cat finding a spot to rest, with his neck bent up and towards it, eyes closed so that all he saw was the red behind his eyelids. 

 

He heard the sound of charcoal breaking apart tiny piece by tiny piece and leaving their dust on the paper, a scritching, scratchy sound that didn’t sound at all like what you’d imagine when you thought of  _ art.  _ Then again, oils didn’t sound particularly pretty, either. Wet, squelching, a lot like slick mud on an unpaved road. Then it would slap against the tightly drawn canvas like a drum whenever the painting was not a painting yet, and finesse was forgotten in the name of lathering background onto a large stretch of off white nothing. Whenever that stage was done the painting itself didn’t sound much, the brush was far too delicate for that. The charcoal was much more of a constant, a reminder of what was going on every single second you used it. At least charcoal didn’t smell like ass. 

 

He wondered what sculpting sounded like. 

 

“Have you ever made a sculpture?” He asked aloud, not bothering to open his eyes or turn his head. There was a brief moment of nothing but the scratch, scratch of the coal, until at last Leonardo replied that,

 

“No, but I did learn how to, from my mentor. I observed him when he sculpted, but never had the inclination to do it myself. It’s too time consuming. You need to commit to a slab of rock for years to make something that will take your breath away. They’re stunning, when done well and by the right person, of course. A committed sculptor is a man whose heart only beats for one thing at a time. To them, my love for what I do seems spread thin. I just say I love too much at once.”

 

Ezio snorted and struggled not to outright guffaw, so as to try and stay still. 

 

“What?” Leonardo asked. 

 

“It’s just—,” Ezio tittered again, “That’s, that’s exactly what a poet caught cheating would tell his wife.  _ I just love too much at once! _ I’m sorry, you said it beautifully, I just…” his shoulders began shaking.  

 

Rather than getting offended, though, Leonardo started to laugh. “You’re right, oh God.” 

 

“It's not that I don’t love you, darling,” Ezio said in a higher pitched voice and a butchered south Italian accent, “I just love you as much as I love uh, whatshername, too! God said for us to love our neighbours, right? What?  _ No _ , I didn’t fuck our neighbour. I fucked our neighbour _ s _ .”

 

There was no sound coming from Leonardo. Ezio opened his eyes and turned to look, seeing Leonardo, still laughing, but with a hand clamped over his mouth. 

 

“Ack, don’t choke yourself on my behalf, hun,” he said, still using the terrible, terrible voice, “it’s not sexy if you do it yourself.”

 

His friend  _ wheezed.  _ Wheezed! Where was his dignity? They couldn’t both be shameless, Ezio’s whole shtick was wholly reliant on always being the most improper person in the room. Not that wheezing was as shameful as allusions to erotic choking, but it was up there. Right next to slapping your thigh while laughing or saying “good one!” after someone told you a joke. 

 

“I think you’re bad for my health,” Leonardo managed to squeeze out between heaving breaths. 

 

“Only think? I thought a genius like you would know for sure by now,” Ezio deadpanned. 

 

“With the speed you throw jokes and other surprises at me it’s a miracle I manage to think at all,” Leonardo retorted. He gestured to the drawing in his lap, “I could’ve been done with this by now, but heaven forbid anything goes as planned with you.”

 

He winked. “You love it.”

 

His friend sighed with a smile. “God help me, I do.”

 

He didn’t know what was warmer, the sun or the pleasure those words brought him. It was a dear thing, to be sure; to feel kinship such as theirs. He was lulled back into his previous calm when the scratch, scratch of coal began anew and he let his eyes fall closed again. 

 

He still hadn’t found a satisfactory answer to his question, though. “So you were there when your teacher sculpted?” he asked. 

 

“Yes, I was. I modelled for him once, actually. It was awful, it took ever longer than modelling for paintings,” Leonardo replied. 

 

“It’s exciting though, that statue of you could last for over a thousand years,” Ezio pointed out. What a strange thought, that in a far away future someone could dig up an old piece of stone with Leonardo’s eyes boring into theirs, and they’d have no idea who it was. They would speculate as to who it could be, but unless his name was carved into it they would never know. Remembered forever but with his name forgotten. Creepy. 

 

“I won’t be alive then anyhow,” Leonardo said. “I would much rather be known now, in our time.”

 

“Fair enough,” Ezio said. “But that’s not why I asked.”

 

“No?”

 

“No, I wanted to ask… what does sculpting sound like?”

 

“ _ Sound? _ ”

 

“Yeah? Your sketches now sounds like scratching in a piece of wood, almost like dragging sandpaper over wood. Oil painting sounds like stepping into mud. I wanna know what sculpting sounds like. I think of it like masons and such, like those people making bricks and putting them into place on construction sites. Am I right?”

 

“… Mostly. At times the sculptor will have to brush away stone dust from the figure or off the floor and it sounds like sweeping ashes and small pieces of burnt wood out of a fireplace.”

 

“Cosy.”

 

“Until you breathe it in.”

 

“Hah. Have you  _ smelled  _ your oil paints? I think they might’ve actually burned your sense of smell away entirely,  it’s so damn strong. I’d rather have ash, any day. If I closed my eyes and pictured a roasting lamb, it’d smell like an Easter roast.”

 

He heard a brief chortle. “You’re really fixated on my oil paints, I think.”

 

“And I’ll continue to be, until either a very smart man out there somewhere figured out a way to make it smell less, or Armageddon arrives; whichever comes first. I would bet on the latter.”

 

“And here I thought you were an optimist.”

 

“I am—but I’m also capable of  _ some  _ rational thought. When I want to.”

 

“Hedonist,” Leonardo tutted, though he could hear no real reproach in his voice, only the patient amusement that was pretty much a constant fixture of Leonardo’s treatment of him. Much like pushing his buttons and dragging him out of his shell was Ezio’s own modus operandi. 

 

“Flatterer,” he replied, as tongue in cheek as he could possibly get. He opened an eye to sneak a glimpse of Leonardo’s face, but was instead treated to some sudden eye contact. “Like what you see?”

 

Neutral regard turned to bemusement. “This may shock you, but looking at a person’s face when you’re drawing them is sort of necessary,” Leonardo said. 

 

“Not what I asked,” he grinned. 

 

“I thought you already had all the answers to that,” Leonardo said. “You don’t need time to tell you that you’re objectively handsome when you already know it.”

 

Ezio clicked his tongue. “Your compliments need some work, if that’s how you plan on telling a very special lady that she’s  _ objectively pretty _ in the same tone of voice you use to talk about the weather.”

 

Leonardo quirked a brow. “That might be because the weather affects me more.”

 

He groaned. “ _ God,  _ you’re weird sometimes.”

 

The insult didn’t make Leonardo bristle or frown; he didn’t protest, retaliate or demand an apology. Instead, he acted as if it was no insult at all, only smoothing out his brow to direct a nearly mischievous smile Ezio’s way, as he so often did, which felt as warm as the sun streaming in through the window. Two suns, there were, for all intents and purposes. Leonardo made no demands of any sort, yes. What he instead said was, “To quote a dear friend of mine, I know you love me.”

 

Startled, Ezio barked a laugh, sudden and sharp and ugly sounding, which turned into almost a giggle rather than the manly chuckle he would have preferred to have as a natural response. “Yeah. God help us.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this work is now 90 pages long in google docs. this will reach a hundred pages before ezio even realises leo is fucking gay, god. why does he have to be such a fkn himbo


	5. Acacia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bro it's not gay if i'm just admiring your muscle mass out of scientific curiosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *invents and changes the backstory of a famous historical figure bc he's not actually a historical figure he's a video game character inspired by a historical figure that i'm now writing fanfic of*
> 
> can i get a wahoo?

The workshop was free of Ezio’s chatter for once, as he had forced himself to actually sit down and read one of the books his tutor had forced on him. He had needed to read it anyway, but the tense clench of Leonardo’s jaw that day and the line between his brows and low voice had made Ezio back off for once when his friend asked him not to distract him. He had sneaked peeks of him every few minutes, though, even if every time the view was the same: Leonardo, brush in hand, standing still, staring at the canvas so furiously that Ezio expected it to catch fire any second. 

 

The stressed silence made it all the more noticeable when Leonardo finally snapped and slammed the brush back into his holder and the palette was unceremoniously tossed onto the closest table. Only luck kept it from flipping over and staining the object already strewn there. Leonardo’s throat bobbed as his eyes shifted back and forth from a random spot on the wall in front of him to the canvas. 

 

“I need air,” he said, voice strange. He then made for the door, fixing his hat absentmindedly mid-step. Ezio slammed his book close and stood, putting it in his seat and hurrying over to his side. Leonardo stopped once he heard and saw Ezio come to stand close to his side.

 

“My friend, I am afraid that I am not very good company right now,” he said. 

 

“But you’re worse off on your own. Air’s a good idea, but I don’t think stewing alone inside here,” he pointed to Leonardo’s head, “is a very good idea as well. You’re your own worst enemy, you know.”

 

Leonardo shook his head, laughing without humour. “Aren’t we all.”

 

“Uh, yes? How do you think I knew?”

 

This time, the laugh he got had more of the humour that belonged there in it. “Alright, Ezio; distract me.”

 

Ezio grinned brightly and slung his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “I thought you’d never ask!” 

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t quite summer yet, but the chill of the early stages of spring had gone. The sun, when none of the clouds passed over it, seeped its warmth through the fabric of their skin and settled into their bones. Ezio found that he understood cats, then, with the way they would always move their resting spot with the sun, to bask in its warmth as much as possible, and he had to stop himself from simply stopping and closing his eyes to turn his head up and towards the sun and drink it all in like a sunflower. The only chill came from the occasional gust of wind, but none of them were common or strong enough to do more than cause a brief shiver over their exposed skin. 

 

The air had done Leonardo good, and settled his shoulders more, so that they weren’t so square with stress that it  made him look like he was ready for a fight. He didn’t say anything, but then again he didn’t need to. Ezio kept him from being locked up by his own thoughts by recounting the dramatic events of the last boy Claudia had fancied, complete with sweeping exaggerations and good old embellishments of the truth for the sake of entertainment. All in the collective Auditore’s favour, though; the selfish boy was relegated the role of villain, complete with a treacherous streak and addiction to breaking hearts. Leonardo only offered the expected noises the right moments, listening just enough. Mid-explanation though, Ezio trailed off. Idly glancing around the street, he had looked up at the roof of one of the buildings and saw a bird’s nest sitting close to the edge and was immediately struck by the idea that he might find a feather or two for Petruccio there. 

 

“Excuse me, I just have to check something,” Ezio told his friend before walking to aforementioned building.

 

“Ezio, what—” The rest was lost on Ezio as he speedily ran towards the wall of the house and gripped the window ledge of one of the windows on the second floor and used it to pull himself up and find footing. Then it was only a few quick moves until he could heave himself up on the tiled roof. He put the rest of the world on hold while climbing (the gasps, curses, and resigned  _ oh no, there he goes  _ had all been fun when he first learned to climb like this. Now, it was background noise). 

 

Thank God, the nest was empty of both eggs and birds. He wouldn’t have to pick fights with a bird today to get into their nest. They were impossible to win against if you liked your face—and who would he be without that face of his? Luck was on his side that day, it seemed, as whatever fowl lived or had lived there had left behind a rather sleek, reasonably sized feather. It was a dark grey, but without the iridescence of pigeon feather, so it was more than likely a crow’s feather. Triumphant, he pinched it between his fingers and began his descent. Hardly a minute later he was back with Leonardo.

 

Who was looking at him like he had spontaneously grown two extra heads.

 

“You have told me that you run across the rooftops between our two homes. I have  _ seen  _ you climb in through my window many times over,” Leonardo said. His voice was calm and evenly measured, polite in tone and manner, a perfect contradiction of his eyes that were as wide and round as saucers and his eyebrows that had joined his hairline completely. “… But, it is another thing entirely to see you do it like that. And with such  _ ease _ !” The shock had, it seemed, been exchanged for awe now, as Leonardo’s voice rose in pitch, his mouth was wide in an open smile and his skin was delightedly flushed and only getting redder. He didn’t seem to notice that they were a hindrance to traffic in the middle of the road, which left it to Ezio to be the responsible one to take Leonardo by the arm and pulling him to the side of the street and allow the kindly old merchant to now pass unhindered. He only levelled them with the mildest of death glares, too. 

 

Leonardo had just gotten started. Which meant that now he could not be stopped. “And no hesitation, just a full sprint against the wall and dear lord in heaven I really thought you were going to knock out your head against the brick but you  _ didn’t  _ you just gripped that and pulled yourself up and started climbing so quickly, heavens, that must be terribly difficult to do, lifting your own weight is not exactly a light task, your arms must be so  _ strong— _ “ Leonardo pulled his arm out of Ezio’s grip and instead gripped  _ his _ arm, feeling his bicep in a way which Ezio was more familiar with from those of the female persuasion. But while the touch could be read as flirting, the intent in Leonardo’s eyes could not. It was more akin to that of an engineer checking to make sure that the pulley system was strong enough to last. “Oh, definitely… you’re lean, but your arm feels like  _ steel _ . Is this all from climbing? How do you maintain this? How do you not get injured all the time, you must constantly be a hair's breadth away from pulling a muscle when you pull such stunts…”

 

“As flattering as this is, could you please give me my arm back before someone starts to think this looks suspicious?”

 

That would do it. Leonardo dropped his arm as if burned and Ezio could see his ears then turn redder still. 

 

He cleared his throat. “It was in the name of science,” he defended. “But you’re right. All my questions still stand, though. I’ve  _ never  _ see someone do anything like what you just did.”

 

“Really? You never went climbing as a child?”

 

“Climbing a small tree to pick apples is not exactly the same as scaling a wall. One is safe and easily climbable with a clear goal in mind, the other is lunacy. Exciting, impressive lunacy, but the point stands.”

 

“I did have a clear goal,” Ezio protested, brandishing the feather, “I wanted this. And I got it. Goal very much accomplished — thank you, climbing skills.”

 

Leonardo scrunched his face up ever so slightly in pure befuddlement. “I… That just raises more questions. Why a feather?”

 

Ezio laughed awkwardly and scratched at his neck, not looking at his face. “Ah— they’re for my little brother, Petruccio. He collects them. Has my mother told you about him?” He looked up to see Leonardo’s face smooth out in comprehension and sympathy well up in his eyes. It wasn’t the same, but it was a bit too close to pity for Ezio’s liking. He wished that Petruccio’s frailty and poor health weren’t the first and often only thing that was known about him. Alas, their world didn’t quite work that way. The sympathy was not played, at least. He had seen a fair share of that, among people too, unfortunately. 

 

“Yes, she… yes. She has. You’re gathering them for him?”

 

He nodded. “He won’t tell me why, though. Not until he has enough of them, but I don’t know how many that will be. I don’t mind, though. They make his day, when I can get them.”

 

“He’s lucky to have you as a brother, it sounds like,” Leonardo said. Ezio laughed it off. 

 

“You exaggerate,” he said. Bringing him some feathers now and then didn’t in any way make up for the rest of the storms he’d cast over his family. The storms they all brought. They were all a damn mess in one way or another, so at least he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t a good brother, per se. But he wasn’t bad either, and that’s all anyone could hope for. He didn’t want to talk about it and hoped that it showed. 

 

“Modesty suits you,” Leonardo smiled, but Ezio’s silent message must’ve reached him, because he didn’t push the matter further. “That still begs the question of how, though. How on earth did you learn to climb like that.”

 

He snorted. “You have a courtyard, don’t you? Let’s go back to your house and I’ll show you.”

 

By the look he was given, you might have thought Ezio had just sprouted a fourth head. “Excuse me? Are you being serious?”

 

“ _ Yes?  _ You can just say no. Though I don’t know why you’d want to.”

 

A laugh of pure disbelief and confusion bubbled out of Leonardo’s chest before he could press a fist against his mouth to surprise it. His shoulders continued to shake even as he remained silent, until he finally took a deep breath. “It’s less about desire and more about some legitimate concerns,” he said. “Such as, the risk of me falling and breaking a bone being very high.” 

 

“It’s not like I’m going to start by pushing you off a tower and expect you to start flying all on your own _.  _ I’m a bit of a prick at the best of times, but I’m not actively out to get you.”

 

“It’s less to do with you and more do to with me,” Leonardo admitted. “I don’t think I would be very good at it, despite your best efforts.”

 

“Oh, so you’re just underestimating us both, then. That’s marginally better. Come on, let’s go!” He clapped Leonardo on the arm and started walking back towards the workshop with long, quick strides. 

 

* * *

 

“Just charge at it,” Ezio called down from his perch on edge of the roof. The small courtyard was empty except for them, though he had seen one of Leonardo’s elderly neighbours whom he shared the yard with stick her head out of her window earlier with her nose upturned, but so far that was the only disturbance. 

 

Leonardo clenched his hands by his side, staring at the wall in front of him like it was going to jump at  _ him  _ any moment instead. “Can you show me again?”

 

“An eighth time won’t help you. Or a ninth, or a tenth. I think it’d do the opposite, actually. The key isn’t to memorise the exact way I did it, it’s to just  _ do it.  _ Just run!”

 

He hadn’t been a prick about it at all, swear to God. It wasn’t only the wall there for him to climb, Ezio had put a few sizeable crates for Leonardo to launch himself from so he wouldn’t need to climb as much. The real challenge was for Leonardo to stop fucking  _ thinking.  _

 

Leonardo didn’t move an inch backwards or forwards, only fidgeting in place. “Can’t we start with a tree?”

 

“We’re in a city, not a forest. You won’t come across many trees here.”

 

“No, but it’s easier to start with.”

 

“You won’t know that until you’ve actually… you know— _ tried. _ ” He snorted a laugh at the acidic look Leonardo threw him. “Seriously. Run and jump and I’ll pull you up the rest of the way. You won’t fall.”

 

“You can’t be certain of an uncertainty.”

 

Well, if that didn’t just make a simple sentiment sound unnecessarily complicated and deeper than it actually was. There was no reason for a climbing lesson to suddenly get existential. “ _ God,  _ just jump already. If you manage to die by falling from a few boxes I promise to give you a damn mausoleum, okay? Cross my sinful heart. I’ll get a sculptor to make your likeness out of marble and everything. Since you like the classics, would you fancy some funeral games, too? I promise climbing won’t be one of them.”

 

Leonardo laughed, before visibly gathering his bearings and shaking his hands and feet.  His chest heaved up and down, up, down, with each great breath as he finally looked like he was going to jump. Then, with a sudden start, he ran. Stomped up the boxes, grabbed at the ledge—

 

And his hand slipped, making him fall to his feet on the boxes. A moment of silence passed. 

 

“I mean,” Ezio began, “you got on top of the crates. That’s progress.”

 

Leonardo sighed. “I’m not cut out for this.”

 

“Nonsense, you just need to use both hands next time. And get some footing. Speed over force, you can’t give yourself time to slip.”

 

“Do I need to run at the crates again or can I do it from here?”

 

“Try from here, I’ll grab you and pull you up. Try putting your foot on something and hoisting yourself upwards.”

 

Leonardo looked dubious, but he did put his foot on the only footing he could get, which was the bottom of a window. It was an awkward angle, as he had to bend his knee much more than he was used to. “Like this?”

 

Ezio nodded. “Yes, now you just need to grab something.”

 

“There’s nothing to—“ Leonardo was interrupted by Ezio bending down and holding out his hand. Leonardo stared at it, startled into silence. Still, he took it. It wasn’t exactly pleasant; neither of them had smooth hands (Ezio had calluses from climbing, while Leonardo’s hands were rough from his myriad of different tools), Ezio’s palms were dry and not wholly clean because of the dust and dirt on the roof, Leonardo’s palms sweaty from nerves… still, they both gripped firmly, and it felt safe. A second passed, hand in hand, before Leonardo charged and propelled himself upwards. He almost pulled Ezio down with him, but managed just in time to get one of his elbows on the roof’s ledge. 

 

“Yes!” Ezio crowed. He let go of Leonardo’s hand and backed up to give him space. “Come on, get your other arm!”

 

Leonardo struggled, huffing and puffing all the while, but did manage to get up his other elbow. Then, of course, it was a matter of getting the  _ rest  _ of him up there. Ezio got ready to pull him up, just as Leonardo did it himself. To say that it was graceful would be generous; it didn’t look like an acrobat as much as it looked like a fish flopping onto land and floundering around on the bank. He then used what looked like the rest of his strength to turn over and lay on his back, feet swinging off the edge. His face was flushed red and his chest was moving up and down quickly with each heaving breath. He didn’t even try to say anything, he just lay flat on his back and stared wide-eyed up at the white clouds in chock, either at himself for just having managed that wall, or at the situation as a whole. In hindsight, Ezio should have told him to ditch the elaborately embroidered, heavy doublet (and that  _ hat _ ) and just done it in a shirt, or to switch his doublet for Ezio’s jerkin if he was worried about his decency. As it was, there wasn’t any part of the sight before him — Leonardo’s face having the look of someone who can’t believe they’re alive, his fashionable outfit actually being  _ improper  _ for the situation, or just the fact that they were on a roof — that wasn’t hilarious. 

 

“You did it!” He laughed, clapping Leonardo’s arm. “How does it feel?”

 

“Ask me again in… five minutes. Or days.”

 

“I’m really impressed, I didn’t actually expect you to make it.” Leonardo’s whipped his head around to glare at him in betrayal. He was quick to backtrack, “the  _ first  _ time, I didn’t expect you to make it the first time. It usually takes a few tries, with some help. Most don’t have the arm muscle to pull themselves up. But you’re full of surprises, for an artist.” He flexed his grip on Leonardo’s arm to make his point, like a facsimile of his friend’s touch earlier. Leonardo’s face turned even redder. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed! I’m not making fun of you. I know being waifish is all the rage right now, but a strong arm is  _ always _ more likely to turn a lady’s eye, trust me.”

 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Leonardo said wryly. “You’re the one with the experience, as you so love to point out.”

 

Ezio grinned and let go of his arm, giving it a small pat as he pulled his hand back. “You’ll catch up in time, don’t you worry,” he said, laying down on his back next to his friend so that his sight was filled with nothing but the bright, spring-blue and white sky. Leonardo didn’t respond, but he didn’t mind. It was a natural lull of conversation, with a silence that was anything but. A flock of geese flew by in a vee shape overheard, sounding that strange, not-song, not-scream sound they always did. One of the geese was slightly out of sync with the others, flying to the side, but none of the others in the flock looked like they minded. Occasionally, he heard wind chimes from one of the windows somewhere nearby chime and sing, like morning birds. The street was close enough that you still heard some chatter and barks of dogs, screams of children playing and angry shouting ( _ beloved people of Firenze, may you never change _ ). His eyes were drawn to one of the clouds that was moving in the wind, changing its shape bit by bit. He pulled the feather he had gotten for Petruccio out of his pocket and began to stroke it idly. Silky smooth and sharp at the same time, depending on how you touched it, with the soft down at the very bottom of it, followed by yet more sharpness. 

 

“Who taught you to climb?” 

 

The question threw him off. Not because it was strange, but because it wasn’t one he had been asked before, or even thought about. He can’t remember someone properly teaching him, or ever even showing him how. 

 

“My brother, technically, I suppose. But I’d say we both taught each other. We used to race each other, a lot, ever since we were both able to run. And a little earlier than that, our parents have told me that Federico would sometimes run off and I’d go after him and fall over and start crying. Don’t spread that around, if anyone asks I’ve always been the epitome of manliness.”

 

“… How old were you?”

 

“Too young to remember it.”

 

“I don’t think anyone looks at you and thinks ‘that man must be homuncular’, if it makes you feel better.”

 

“God, I hope not. I like my hairline where it is. Anyway, my point is that we both just—raced. Did everything we could to outrun the other, which meant learning how to dodge, vault over things and slide under others, jump, then climb. I might have been… eight, or nine, and I was racing Federico to a church. And I had lost sight of him when running ahead, so I thought I was winning. Then I hear him cackle like a madman from somewhere  _ above  _ me. So I look up and there he was, running on the roof and making his own shortcut. I wasn’t about to be outdone by him, and saw a cart sitting to the side of the road, with a balcony high in front of it. So I ran, jumped, climbed, and then I was racing him again. And then that just became our normal. I never asked him where he got  _ his  _ idea to start climbing from, but I got mine from him. Then that became a competition, too.”

 

“Do you still race? Just the two of you?”

 

“Sometimes. Not as often. And only ever the two of us, yes. We did teach Claudia to climb and to run like us, because she didn’t want to get left behind once she became a bit older. But we couldn’t do it when our parents were around, because it wasn’t proper when we did it, and definitely not proper for a girl to do it, too. She can’t do it anymore either with those dresses of hers, but I don’t think she minds. As long as she  _ can  _ do it, then she doesn’t need to. She can’t stand us knowing something she doesn’t.”

 

Leonardo hummed. “I understand that. Not precisely, since I didn’t have any siblings growing up, but I can imagine.” He paused. It was a tense silence this time, one that was heavy with words that had not yet been spoken. A swallow flew into Ezio’s line of sight, chasing an insect he could not see. It was closer to the ground and usual and he felt a flicker of disappointment well through him. Low flying swallows signified oncoming rain, his uncle had told him, standing with him by his side when he was barely tall enough to reach his elbow. His countryside estate naturally brought him closer to farming and in turn, nature. A wise man would do well to heed a farmer’s warning, he had said. If a farmer says this season’s crops will be bad, make preparations. If a farmer says the soil is good, then it is. If a farmer says it will rain, it will rain. Ezio didn’t want rain; he couldn’t stand to be locked inside. Rain itself was calm enough, the company inside the house with him less so. 

 

“Remember when I told you about my education?” Leonardo asked, finally easing the silence he had caused. 

 

“The lack of it, from what I remember.”

 

“I had one, but it was informal. The bare minimum, really. I only got it after I moved in with my father, because he hadn’t produced any heirs yet and I was one of his oldest bastards. The smartest, too, he said, that’s why he bothered with me. He only made sure I was taught enough that I could be a sufficient backup heir in a pinch. It was never enough. Anything I wanted to know, I had to look for, search for. I couldn’t always ask for answers, I had to demand them from the world when tutors where unforthcoming. Nature is the only honest teacher there is.”

 

“Teachers don’t  _ lie _ ,” Ezio protested. They were boring as sin, and some were flat out terrible, but they wouldn’t lie. 

 

“Not on purpose.”

 

“You can’t lie by accident.” If you had to answer a question you didn’t know the answer to, and then of course said the wrong thing, then that was it, wasn't it? You were just wrong. 

 

“They can, if you point out a mistake they’ve made and they refuse to correct themselves when you disprove them. Then they know, but they try to save face by lying. I only learned the basics of reading and writing, some numbers and the bare minimum of running a household. And God’s word, of course. With church, that was my most extensive subject. I don’t know Latin, so I don’t know if I’ll ever be taken seriously if I decide to publish any of my research. I wasn’t taught the sciences, or philosophy. They noticed I had a talent for art when they found my sketches of subjects in nature, so they got me an apprenticeship and dusted their hands off. 

 

“So I can’t say I am even similar to Claudia. But I understand the impulse. Not knowing is the worst thing I know. Seeing others being given my most sincere childhood wish, a proper education, and squander it makes my heart ache.”

 

What could you possibly say to a friend to ease their pain, when you were one of the causes of it? Ezio didn’t  _ think  _ Leonardo had poured his soul out to him just to scold Ezio into taking his education more seriously, but he still felt chastised. He got up and supported himself on his elbow so that he could look down into Leonardo’s eyes when he spoke. Leonardo instinctively turned his head to him at the suddenly movement, but remained on his back. 

 

“I’ve always been shit a Latin,” Ezio confessed. “But if the rest of Italy is too dumb to realise your worth just because they’re stuck too far up into their own arses to understand any language that isn’t, you know,  _ dead _ then I promise to painstakingly translate all of your papers one unnecessarily complicated word at a time.” He grinned. “Besides, you’ve Toscana’s one and only wall climbing teacher on your side. Give it a month and you can intimidate the elite into respecting you by doing a backflip off a tower.”

 

Leonardo laughed. “From anyone else I’d say that was a joke, but from you I can’t be sure.”

 

“Good, because that’s the next lesson after scaling walls. It’s important to have all the basics, we wouldn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.”

 

Ezio felt a burst of smug (pride? pleasure?)  _ satisfaction _ when he got another laugh out of Leonardo. He didn’t look old by any stretch of the imagination, but when you compared his face two hours before —  _ shoulders high and tense, eyes hard with stress, the corner of his mouth twitching downwards and his jaw set _ — to his face then, in the middle of a peal of laughter —  _ eyes half closed by how high his smile pushed his cheeks, happy and open in the way only a person overcome by humour could be, in that moment carefree and his forehead relaxed, with no evidence of lines that traced the tension in his skin  _ — you would think that laughing made him a decade younger. When, in fact, it only made him look his age. 

 

Leonardo stopped laughing and his face grew more somber. He pushed himself up on his elbows and Ezio moved back just a bit, as they were suddenly face to face and would have been close enough to feel each other’s breath had he not moved. 

 

“I just wanted to say…” Leonardo began, before he tapered off, visibly struggling to get the words of. He met Ezio’s eyes and, suddenly, with no need for words, he understood what he was trying to say. The most sincere of thanks were always the most difficult to get out, because how could such a common phrase ever begin to describe what they felt? It wasn’t fair, really, that the same phrase you used when someone held up the door for you was the same phrase you used when someone understood you so well and helped you so much just by being there that you couldn’t quite believe that they were real at times. Still, Leonardo said “Thank you,” and the pure emotion to his voice, his eyes, were enough to make the words carry weight. 

 

Ezio only hoped that his message was just as clear when he said, “Any time.” Then he clapped his hands together and sat up all in one, quick moment, so as not to linger in uncharted territory for too long. “Now, back to business! Take that doublet off, we’re going to give that nosy old lady neighbour of yours the show of a lifetime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot that this was the only "finished" chapter that's not actually finished so i'll either just let it be like this or maybe add something to the beginning of the next chapter. who knows? certainly not me
> 
> happy pride month, gaydies, gayntlemen and non-binary gays i had my graduation ball this week and a girl in my class asked "may i have this dance, miss?" and i ascended. hope you get to experience something that gay too


	6. Pinoli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if you are a sibling and you can have emotionally healthy discussions and be open with them, i don't believe you and also shut up, nerd

Once Ezio had taught Leonardo to climb up without his help, the clouds had amassed in the sky into one big, grey sea, steadily growing darker. The air itself grew heavier, humid in a way that made the hair at his neck curl, and his shirt stick to his skin, despite looking dry. A stray thought flying through his head, as he looked out through his window once home, likened the pressure to a fist you couldn’t dodge; a promise of something unpleasant  _ bound  _ to fuck you up, but you could do nothing to dodge.

 

Once it finally came, the rain itself wasn’t unpleasant. It had begun in the night as he laid restless in bed, trying to think of anything but what was on his mind. It knocked once, twice, thrice, on his window as he pictured the flock of geese that had flown over his head, growing to a continuous pitter-patter as he instead thought of that damn swallow, as if it was the one directly responsible for the downpour. Then the rain became heavier and heavier like a crescendo building towards a great turn and he turned away from the swallow as he remembered the sound of Leonardo’s laughter, and his face when he was trying to thank Ezio, how much darker a blue his eyes were compared to the bright sky above them and how much emotion the man could hold in just a look and how much it reminded him of  _ fuck, that was exactly what he was trying to avoid thinking of, what the _ —

 

Why wasn’t there any thunder? Why wasn’t the roof shaking? Storms rarely came alone, why was it that this one was just cold, clingy, loud rain that was determined to keep him from sleep? He didn’t understand how some people thought it was calming and helped them sleep, Cristina had once told him when they were in bed that she always liked the summer rains best because  _ fuck! No! Go away!  _ He rolled over from his back onto his stomach and pushed his face into the pillow, mentally willing his thoughts to go, go away, he didn’t have time for them, there was no point in thinking about her at all. She was gone, she wouldn’t be back. She had made that part very clear. There was no room in her life for Ezio any more. He was holding her back, she said, keeping her from a happy future and he still couldn’t understand why she had to look ahead and ahead, when the now is all they really have— 

 

_ Stop thinking about it! _

 

Come to think of it, maybe thinking about Leonardo was better? There was no reason he couldn’t think about Leonardo, it was only Cristina that hurt to think about, and there was nothing to connect the two at all. There was no reason for him not to think about Leonardo, actually. He hadn’t known him for long, but he still felt like they had known each other for years. There was no reason for that, no perfect, logical explanation. They wanted completely different things out of life and their personalities were different, with Leonardo being much more subdued but open, and Ezio being loud and extrovert, while still keeping most of his deeper thoughts and desires so far inside not even he could make sense of them. They had few common interests, few shared friends. They came from two completely different walks of life and family situations. They shouldn’t be able to connect so well, but they still did. Like they both brought something out of the other that they both need, but couldn’t get by themselves. Ezio knew that Leonardo did that for him, with all his earnestness and honesty and understanding and no disregard for how much his emotions and the bottling up of them was his driving force. He didn’t know what Leonardo was like without him, but he hoped that he could say the same of Ezio. That their friendship wasn’t all just Ezio taking and taking from him, while giving back nothing. It didn’t seem that way, but then again, it hadn’t seemed that way with Cristina either. 

 

Okay, perhaps that was why Leonardo reminded him of Cristina in some ways. They were nothing alike, at all… But for the way they affected him. He had fallen hard and fast for Cristina, face first into the ground before he even knew he was falling. She, too, brought out the vulnerability in him. He had opened himself up to her with ease, eager to be seen. She had seen him in a way nobody else had. 

 

Then she  _ left _ . 

 

By all accounts, that experience alone should have taught him not to get so, so attached so, so soon. But he didn’t learn and in this case, he thought it was for the best, because having Leonardo in his life was nothing but a much needed source of joy. He didn’t have to be afraid, either, since any love beyond the familial kind wasn’t on the table between them. Friendships didn’t bring the potential of marriage and the demands of the happiness of your family and your societal duty to the table. It was thoroughly uncomplicated, and so the only risk there was of Ezio messing it up was if he ended up taking too much without giving enough back. 

 

So maybe Leonardo did remind him of Cristina, because of how quickly he became dependant on them both, in similar but thankfully also a few different ways. But with Leonardo, he had nothing to worry about. It wasn’t as if  _ he _ would be moving to the other side of the country to live his life out with another man. Leonardo had seemingly no plans to move anywhere, at all. Leonardo wasn’t going to leave, unlike Cristina. 

 

Hah. He should’ve allowed himself to consider all that sooner. 

 

As it then turned out, a peace of mind was all you needed for rain to become the most calming sound in the world. Once that happened, all that could follow was sleep. 

 

* * *

 

He had yesterday remembered his uncle’s tellings of swallows, how a farmer could see rain coming if a swallow flew low. How he had thought of it as a swallow circled over their head, hunting low flying insects as they both lay on the roof, and later how a swallow had swooped down as low as the street when he was sprinting home. 

 

Naturally, the unnamed farmer his uncle spoke of was right: the rain did not stop in the night for more than maybe five minutes when no one was awake to see it—rain came the following day as if it had never stopped and would never stop, as per the swallow’s unwitting warning. This, naturally and much like everything else in this world, had it upsides and downsides. Upsides: no tutors, since nobody in their right mind would leave their house in a downpour unless they absolutely had to. Downsides: nobody in their right mind would leave their house. Ezio might very well start chewing on the walls any minute out of boredom.

 

“Chewing? Realistic goals, please, Ezio.  _ Scratching  _ the walls is much more doable,” Claudia snided from across the room.

 

Being forced to study (which was already intolerable) with his siblings (who were good in  _ small doses _ ) was very much one of the downsides. Ezio really, really didn’t enjoy Latin. He understood the point of it, to the extent that it could be used to read older texts, but also  _ why _ . Why not just translate it all to Italian and be done with it? Having the bible written in it, all scientific papers published written in it, seemed counterproductive to making as many people as possible educated. None of his opinions on it were in any way related to how much conjugating the verbs sucked, of course. That’d be childish. 

 

“How about I chew your  _ face _ ,” he sullenly replied. 

 

“How old are you again?”

 

“Be nice,” Federico told Ezio before he could retort with something rude, “She’s just trying to help you destroy the house in the most productive way possible.” Ezio didn’t understand why Federico even had to be there with them. Petruccio was practicing history, Ezio Latin and Claudia poetry. Bastard and all around asshole heir and oldest son should be done with that and be locked in with their father in his study, really. Practicing for eventually taking his place and all that. But no, he was inexplicably condemned to reading about math. Reading. About  _ math.  _ Horrid. Served him right. 

 

“Fire?” Petruccio suggested.

 

“Thank you, Petruccio,” Federico said. “Usually I would agree with you, but I don’t think any fire would get far in this weather.”

 

“Depends,” Ezio said, mood much improved. They were all desperate for any sort of distraction at that point. “Do we have any gunpowder? The facade is made of stone so fire wouldn’t work even without the rain, but an explosion would do.”

 

“Smash the furniture like hammers against a very important wall and you could bring everything crumbling down,” Claudia said. “No, we don’t have gunpowder. I have checked.”

 

Ezio gaped. “When the hell—”

 

“No swearing in front of Petruccio!”

 

“Why?” Petruccio himself protested. “Father Georgiano says hell all the time.”

 

“He has a point there,” Federico said, pride in his little brother evident. 

 

“Petruccio or the priest?”

 

“Obviously Petruccio, you air-headed—”

 

“Calm down, Claudia, Jesus. I was joking,” Ezio said. 

 

Then, on the subject of hell, Federico said, “It’s fine when you say it as a warning, like Father Georgiano. Like, don’t do this or you’ll go to hell. That’s not rude. It’s also okay to say stuff like, you’ll go to hell if you do this bad thing.”

 

Ezio tapped his chin, musing, “So ‘stay the hell away from me’ and ‘you’ll go to hell if you don’t stop annoying me’ is fine?”

 

“… Yes? Wait, no—”

 

“It’s only alright to say hell if you’re a priest or you’re directly quoting a priest,” Claudia decided which quickly put a stop to their fun. Petruccio nodded like he had been imparted a great wisdom and would do his best to live life according to it from then on. 

 

“Are we going to forget Claudia saying she’s already checked for gunpowder?” Ezio asked.

 

“What I do on my own time is my business.”

 

“It isn’t, actually. Privacy is a parent-only kind of privilege here.”

 

“How about you, then? What are  _ you  _ doing sneaking out during the day,  _ every day  _ these past weeks?”

 

Where had that come from?! “Business  _ not involving gunpowder.  _ Stop deflecting the gunpowder!”

 

“Are you whoring during  _ daytime _ hours nowadays?”

 

Jesus! “ _ The gunpowder! _ ”

 

“ _ What  _ is going on in here?!” Hello, Petruccio’s governess. He had forgotten she existed. From the look in his siblings faces, they had too. 

 

“Our discussion got a little heated, nothing to worry about,” Federico assured her. 

 

“We’re all just very passionate about… knowledge,” Ezio added. 

 

The governess narrowed her eyes, clearly weighing the consequences of either potentially neglecting her duties by letting them carry on being a disturbance to Petruccio, or risk getting sacked by offending Ezio or Federico by calling them out on their bullshit. She chose wisely:  **strategic retreat.**

 

“Messere Petruccio, come with me; I am going to test your knowledge of the line of popes.”

 

Their youngest sibling looked crestfallen. “Must I?”

 

She nodded, “Repetition is the key to memorisation.” She would know, she repeated that phrase a lot. “Come along!”

 

“Good luck and don’t forget Benedictus the ninth!” Ezio said when Petruccio got up and followed his governess. 

 

“Good luck and don’t listen to Ezio,” Claudia added, just as the door swung shut behind them. 

 

“What’s wrong with Benedictus?”

 

“I don’t know but you remember him specifically, which is a bad sign.”

 

“ _ Heresy! _ Also, can you talk about the gunpowder now?”

 

Claudia put both of her elbows on the table and looked him straight in the eye, the same pose she had every time she meant business. Especially the  _ vaffanculo! _ sort of business. “I’ll explain the gunpowder as soon as you explain what you’ve been up to lately, you ass.”

 

Federico crossed his arms and sighed. “Can you both just be nice, please? If the tension in here gets any higher we won’t need gunpowder to blow this house to kingdom come.”

 

“Don’t give her ideas,” Ezio grumbled. “Seriously, I don’t even think you actually checked for that gunpowder. I bet you just wanted a reason to start arguing with me. Contrary to popular opinion, I am capable of critical thought.” 

 

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is,” Claudia deadpanned. “It’s not a particularly high bar to clear.”

 

“Aha! Knew it,” he said triumphantly, clapping his hands together. “Since you ask me so sweetly, no, I have  _ not  _ been causing trouble.”

 

“I believe you,” Federico said. “We would have known if you had.”

 

“Would we?” 

 

Ezio dragged out a long, long sigh of irritation. “I fuck up  _ once _ —don’t! Say it!” he said when Claudia opened her mouth to interrupt, “I fucked up  _ severely,  _ I know that. But I didn’t intend to. Cross my heart, I never wished any harm to come to that poor, sweet, good looking girl whose name I most certainly remember but I challenge either of you to recall it—and your silence proves me right. It’s Rachele. Either way, I  _ am  _ sorry that she got the brunt of it. I don’t know what happened to her but I’ve been informed that whatever happened, it wasn’t nice. But notice? How I haven’t done it again? Because I  _ haven’t.  _ I’ve been spending time with friends, I haven’t missed a single lesson, not even Latin. See this?” He held up his book and waved it back and forth for emphasis. “Latin! I’ve been doing it! I’ve been present during dinners, I haven’t come home drunk even once. What the hell is wrong with that?!”

 

Claudia burst out into laughter. Not the amused kind, but the incredulous, mean, are-you-kidding-me kind. “What’s strange is that you practically changed overnight! A lifetime of lessons on morals and how to behave and lectures from our parents and suddenly you wake up and decide to live a life of piety compared what you did before?”

 

Ezio groaned to the ceiling, as if it would understand him. Oh, it just wasn’t  _ fair _ . Doing wrong was wrong, but deciding to do right was wrong too?! There was no way for him to win! And Claudia said it so  _ viciously —  _ how long had she been building up that tension? Also, why bother? Why couldn’t they all just be happy with him keeping all things stupid to a minimum? He was doing bloody  _ latin.  _

 

“Claudia…” Federico’s voice was tense and it was clear from that, his shoulder width stance and his still-crossed arms and clenched jaw that he was on the verge of snapping at her. Ezio felt a swell of affection for his older brother then. He barely ever snapped at anyone, for any reason, but particularly  _ never  _ at the two youngest. It just didn’t happen. It meant a lot to know that Ezio had him on his side, because he knew Federico wouldn’t defend him if he didn’t think he deserved it. 

 

Claudia, however, either didn’t care to acknowledge the warning, or didn’t see it. If anything, she looked more determined, pushing her chair out and standing up, so that she was the one looking down at Ezio. Let her, it didn’t matter to him if that made her feel more powerful. Instead, he deliberately looked more relaxed and leaned back in his chair to balance it on its two back legs. 

 

“You know what’s really bothering me, too?” She said, dogged to the bone. 

 

“I get the feeling that you’re about to tell me anyway,” Ezio said. 

 

“It’s that our parents weren’t what changed your mind. I know papà wasn’t exactly easy on you and I know mamma  _ hit  _ you, and I even felt sorry for you!” That was… news, to him. Why hadn't she said that before? Mother actually  _ listened _ to her. Usually. “I mean I understood why, but still! But a day later you just—flipped. And you would never do something like that without a  _ really  _ good reason. To you, anyway. So what I really want to know is if this is all just some long drawn out lie to cover up for you tricking another girl into having her life ruined by you until you inevitably grow bored and move on.”

 

Ezio opened his mouth to say— what, exactly? He didn’t know. He usually always had a retort at the ready, but this time, he came up short. It felt a little like she had twisted something in his chest, with the slight ache he felt there. The accusation left a sour taste in his mouth. It wasn’t hurtful because he was yet again being labelled a womaniser (the truth doesn’t hurt all that much, really, that part of his identity was a badge of well-deserved pride because he had  _ earned  _ it), or because of her calling him a liar. It was just. Strange. And empty. 

 

“Why would I pull such an exhausting scheme just to get into a girl’s bed? Seriously? Why would I do that?” Why  _ would  _ he? If he wanted sex he would just go out and get it. There were women out there who wouldn’t be forced into a nunnery or kicked out of their home if he got under their skirts; he  _ did  _ go visit them. Frequently! He had stopped, before, on his quest to — whatever, but he did, now. And he was  _ discreet _ about it. Rachele was never about sex, she was about the thrill of having to actually work hard to seduce her, like he’d done with Cristina. It hadn’t worked, obviously. It wasn’t successful either, because he could never get the same emotional and physical experience twice, but with two different people. Especially not when he was deliberately fabricating the scenario with the second girl. And again, he had gone through with it because it hadn’t occurred to him that he might be the only one to walk away unscathed. He hadn’t meant to be cruel, but to do the same thing now, with the knowledge he had—the cruel reality of it was something he could never escape. He was many things, but he wasn’t cruel. Never cruel. 

 

“Drop it, Claudia,” Federico told her. “Seriously, you’re trying to find a scheme where there is none. It won’t work.”

 

“Of course you’re on  _ his  _ side,” she sneered. 

 

“Because you’re being unreasonable!”

 

“ _ Thank  _ you, Federico!” Ezio said, grateful that he could depend on his older brother to have his side in this. Claudia was scary at the best of times, but it was rare for her to actually lose control like this. Fiery and aggressive, that she was to a fault. But this was just… a whole lot of  _ why?! _

 

She let out a grunt of disgust and slammed her book closed, kicking her chair back with a screech of wood against wood and standing up. She puffed out her chest, nose held high, and said, “I don’t know why I expected differently. I won’t make the same mistake again, I promise you both.” Then she turned on her heel, dramatic as can be, and left the room. Ezio could only gape after her in shock. 

 

“Jesucristo,” Federico breathed out. 

 

“There’s so much love in this house,” Ezio said drily, “Moves me to tears.”

 

“There must be something else going on,” his brother reasoned. “Maybe boy-trouble, or something else. She must be looking for something to take her frustration out on and chose you. Not that it makes it alright, but still—don’t take it personally.”

 

He scoffed. “She all but calls me a deceiving whore and I’m  _ not  _ supposed to take it personally?”

 

Federico winced. He slumped down down in his chair with a sigh. He scratched his neck, searching for words. “Don’t let it get to you,” he finally said, “You’re more than what people say. I mean, what she was saying wasn’t true… was it?” 

 

Funny how he could bring his entire point and, as such, his attempts at comfort to a screeching halt and ruin with that tone of voice. The one that said, I don’t entirely believe you, I’m in doubt, I’m just trying to be nice but what I’m saying isn’t how I truly feel. 

 

“So this has been  _ fun _ ,” Ezio said, pushing himself up, “But I need to go and continue to intentionally ruin lives. If I start now I might have done in a dozen before dinner!”

 

“Ezio, hold on—“

 

Federico must not have been  _ too _ concerned, since he didn’t bother to run after him. Not that Ezio was running. He was walking away, calmly, as calm as can be, calm as gently churning waters, clouds across a sky, a steady breeze in summer, calm, calm,  _ calm.  _ He didn’t want to go back to his room, there was nothing there to do but sleep and he didn’t like his dreams all that much. Petruccio was off limits, Claudia could kill him easily and his parents were just a  _ no.  _ He’d left his books behind with Federico and he was not going back there, either. 

 

On a whim, he entered their small courtyard, where their home was open to the skies and the elements currently beating down upon them. He held his hand out to where the sky began and, palm facing up, felt his skin become immediately pelted by fat drops of water. It was cold, but not unbearably so, and unlike mist or calmer (calm, calm) rain it didn’t even feel like he was wet, with how forceful it was. The drops hit his hand almost like pebbles, impacting and bouncing off. 

 

He stepped out into the rain fully, and experienced the same thing again, but now with all of him. It wasn’t exactly the same, as he felt his hair quickly become wet and heavy and his clothes stuck close to his skin, his white shirt turning see-through. He shivered. 

 

Well, he was wet now. What was done was done. How much harm could some more water do?

 

And who said he had to remain inside the house?

 

With practiced steps, ingrained into his muscle memory as well as anything else, he ran towards one of the pillars and jumped, then began to climb. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't mind me i just think tonal dissonance is hhhhhh sexy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	7. Fricassea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _you construct intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men_  
>  **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shuffles out of a far too small car in my comically large shoes * I tried to make this a serious and angsty fic but alas, I am too bad at that and too good at quippy dialogue to make anything but a predictable rom-com *honks my clown nose sadly*
> 
> this is the longest chapter yet. but do not mistake its length for quality lads. also i posted a bit early because tomorrow is Midsommar and i'm already tired from working 10h and since i'm working throughout the whole midsommar-weekend i don't think i'll be able to Think let alone Post. i only have some energy left over to actually celebrate midsommar but that's it. so Glad Midsommar to you all, here's Ezio being Fucking Stupid to celebrate

_ This was a terrible idea _ , he thought, only five minutes later,  _ Why would I do this! Why am I so stupid! _

 

He had actually climbed down from the rooftops after only a short while, having discovered a very important fact: 

 

Heavy rain… made things slippery. 

 

Go figure. 

 

Instead, he was running through the streets, dashing from cover to cover, under any and all balconies, forgotten canopies and marquees, roof edges that went past the walls of the houses, anything that would prove to provide some cover. It did very little, but at least it did more than the  _ open sky without anything to even cover him from the wind why the fuck did he think climbing would work why _ — and he was moving at only a slightly slower pace. 

 

Soon enough, he was upon that familiar building from the ground, like he hadn’t been since when his relationship with Leonardo  _ became  _ one. He didn’t bother knocking, though, just like he didn’t bother with the window. Instead he ran to the door, pulled it open (thank you, Leonardo’s faith in humanity, which allowed him to leave doors unlocked) and slammed it shut behind him. He leaned his back to the door, chest quickly rising and falling with his breath, then slid down the door to sit on the floor with his legs sprawled haphazardly in front of him. The door made a strange, almost squelching sound when his wet clothes were pressed to it and he slid down with them, as did the impact of his sodden, sorry arse on the floor. Though that was more of a  _ splat _ than a squelch. 

 

…  _ Ugh _ . 

 

His head fell back towards the door with a thud. That, too, sounded wet. God, it seemed like it was only yesterday when he could go wherever he wished without being weighed down by the sky’s sorrows and pass on the rain to whatever he touched; because it was yesterday, how did rain like this happen just overnight? He had a sudden understanding for people’s reasonings behind heathen gods. If the sky was tied to a moody man baby and the weather changed on his whim alone, then this rain made sense. It was much like a mood swing. He wished he could ask a priest,  _ why?!  _ and receive another answer than just “God works in mysterious ways” which he had always secretly believed actually meant “fuck if I know”. 

 

Now that he was out of the rain, however, he had another issue—the fact that he had started to shiver. Outside, he had been too focused on getting  _ inside _ to notice how stiff his muscles had grown, and how cold he had become. But now, flesh prickled with goosebumps, teeth chattering and his limbs quivering, it was impossible to ignore his being completely frozen. He pushed himself up from the floor, wincing at how tough it was in his state, and began to walk around, rubbing up and down his arms. 

 

Where was Leonardo, anyway? He was almost always down in the workshop whenever he stopped by. When he wasn’t, it was because he was visiting patrons or other friends, or at the market, but that couldn’t be the case today. Only Ezio was dumb enough to decide that a little rain couldn’t hurt. He couldn’t still be in bed, could he?

 

On shaking feet, he walked over to the stairs to investigate the rest of the house. He felt guilty about the trail of water he left behind himself, but then again… it was far from the worst thing the floor had ever seen. 

 

If Leonardo was indeed upstairs, there was no way that he would be caught off guard with how much the stairs creaked under Ezio’s feet. They whined and groaned, as if they, too, detested the weather and the cruel circumstance that had brought the elements inside to drip all over them. 

 

It suddenly occurred to Ezio that he actually had no idea what the second floor of Leonardo’s home looked like, just as he stepped on to the landing. 

 

It was… more of the same. Imagine that. Just objects upon objects, piled high in—piles; papers, tools, books,  _ scrolls _ ? It was strange, with how expensive all those things are, you would think that Leonardo would take better care of them. Even if most of the books were notebooks, paper wasn’t exactly a super affordable commodity. Ezio would never dare to call himself a friend of order or a neat freak; he despised tidying. But the mess there made his fingers itch with the need to straighten out the chaos. 

 

He was also treated to the vision of shoes strewn around haphazardly, as well as clothes. They were all neatly standing or folded or hung… they were just none of them in the same place or anywhere where clothing would normally go. It made his skin crawl for a reason besides the cold. The urge to start organising things that didn’t even belong to him was overwhelming. What the  _ hell _ , Leo. 

 

The space itself, though, apart from being cluttered, was open. It was almost like a loft, more than a floor. It made sense considering how high the ceiling in the workshop was, but it was still quite different from what he was used to. It meant that rather than a bedroom, Ezio could see a large, unadorned bed without posters stuffed into one of the corners, underneath one of the windows. There weren’t many windows there, and none of them were particularly large, but it was enough to dispel most of the gloom that would naturally enspell an attic. During most days, of course; today the windows revealed nothing  _ but  _ gloom. 

 

There was another thing which differed from downstairs, which was the large, beautiful desk situated right beneath the largest of the not-so-large windows. It was organised, free of clutter, with space left over to actually work on. Lo and behold, Leonardo wasn’t a complete dragon, hoarder of messes. 

 

In fact, it was behind that very desk that Ezio found his friend. He must not have heard Ezio coming, seeing as he didn’t look up. Not strange, considering the heavy pattering of rain on the window. 

 

He looked different from how Ezio was used to seeing him. 

 

He had never  _ not _ seen Leonardo well put together. The man breathed fashion and style, and he seemed loathe to ever be anything but presentable and tidy at all times—some sort of freakish way to compensate for what his home looked like, Ezio guessed. A safeguard to keep people from looking past the well-manicured interior to see what was inside.

 

He hadn’t bothered today. Gone was the improbable doublet, the carefully positioned hat, the fine, decorated hose. He wore his shirt with nothing over it, and completely untied at the throat, which caused the shirt to slip down and reveal a long, sweeping collarbone and pale skin, much paler than his face or hands, as well as a tease of his firm, slim chest. With that, he wore regular plain socks (not even shoes!), and nondescript trousers. He looked like a completely different man. His blonde hair, usually silky smooth in appearance, was lazily pushed behind both of his ears and didn’t look like it had been brushed as carefully as normal. The ends were  _ curling _ . He had stubble where he otherwise wouldn’t, and it all, the clothes, the hair, the air of it all, added up to paint one picture. 

 

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, 

 

Leonardo looked  _ relaxed.  _

 

He wasn’t unkempt and nothing about him, not even his uncombed hair, could be described as unruly. He just looked like a man relaxing in his own home without expecting any visitors. There was something about seeing him that way that made Ezio feel borderline voyeuristic. It didn’t last long, though, because of course Leonardo would look up to notice the intrusion and all his guards be raised with it, shoulders tensing and back straightening. It was subtle, but Ezio prided himself on knowing Leonardo well enough to notice it. In that moment though, he wished he didn’t know, so he wouldn’t feel what could only be a ball of shame tight in his throat, of having intruded and seen Leonardo… being almost vulnerable, without it being a voluntary display. He was, suddenly, quite sorry. For the first time he almost didn’t feel welcome in Leonardo’s home and it was almost like a flash of lightning, in how sudden his realisation was; Leonardo was always the one welcoming him and giving, with Ezio only taking. Leonardo’s time, his attention, his—well, just taking. He felt ashamed for not having noticed it before, because he hasn’t  _ intruded  _ like this before. 

 

“Funny how I’m the one fully dressed and you’re still more put together than I am,” he joked, because. Well. What  _ else  _ would he do?

 

A bit of the tension left Leonardo, with worry taking its place. God, why did he even try, there was no way to make himself feel less awful. Maybe he wouldn’t be so distressingly emotional all of a sudden if he wasn’t wet and frozen. Leonardo pushed out his chair. “Nobody can be stylish and dripping wet at the same time,” he said, stepping around the desk and approaching Ezio. “Lord above, why on  _ earth  _ did you decide to go outside in this weather? Without even a  _ coat?! _ ” He stepped right into Ezio’s space and then suddenly—oh. He cupped Ezio’s face in his hands. 

 

Oh. He’s warm, dry, strong all at once. It’s almost overwhelming, actually, how little Leonardo felt like a person then, and instead felt like a furnace, or a heavy blanket, bringing with him a wonderfully warm reprieve from the chill of his clammy skin. It made him feel secure and all kinds of strange in all kinds of ways. 

 

_ Oh _ , he thought again, when Leonardo shifted one of his hands to touch his forehead, the way one takes a temperature. Right, Leonardo had some medical knowledge, how could he forget that? He was worried about the cold making Ezio come down with something, because Leonardo was a reasonable, smart man. Leonardo would never think running through pouring, cold rain to escape his family was a good idea. Leonardo would have stayed at home by the fire and damn anyone who tried to disturb him if he didn’t want them to. 

 

“You’re far too cold,” he said, face pinched. “I have a fire going downstairs. Go sit as close to it as possible while I get you some dry clothes.”

 

“You think I can’t handle a little rain?” He joked. Leonardo’s eyes softened somewhat. 

 

“A little, maybe. But if Zeus was real, I feel confident in saying he would take offence to that, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much rain at once before.”

 

“Hey, it hadn’t been like this  _ all day _ . It even stopped for almost an hour this morning,” Ezio deflected. 

 

“And I wouldn’t have been worried if that was when you had gone outside. Alas, that would have been too much to expect,” Leonardo joked and shook his head. “Go sit by the fire, I’ll be right down with you.”

 

Ezio sighed, but relented. He supposed there were worse things than being taken care of. He tried to shake off his earlier dark thoughts; while he needed to give some more back to Leonardo, he also needed to acknowledge that caring for others was in his friend’s very nature. He ought to remember that. Leonardo cared, that’s who he was. He simply needed to thank him some more. 

 

Downstairs, the fire had been neglected. Leonardo had forgotten to feed it fresh logs, and so let it turn to burning red embers. At least it would restart soon enough, and still gave off some very welcome warmth. He put fresh wood on, then sat down on the warmer floor before it. He grimaced as he was was reminded of how wet his—everything was and made the decision to start stripping before Leonardo gave him clothes. Kicking his shoes off even made some water that had gotten into them splash down on the floor. Taking off his clothes wasn’t as easy, he literally had to peel off his shirt and jerkin, as they had clung so tightly to his skin. Every bit of skin that became exposed when it was freed rose and he shivered more than once. His trousers could wait, though. Sitting as close to the fire as he could, angling his torso towards it and putting up his hands in front of the fire was a huge relief in and of itself. 

 

Leonardo did come down soon after and carried both fresh clothes and a towelling cloth with him in his arms, as well as a blanket. When he saw Ezio had partially stripped already he quickly snagged his eyes away from him, face darkening considerably. Ezio couldn’t help but snort and grinned in amusement.  

 

“Come on, what’s a little indecency among friends?” He teased. 

 

“Not the same for everyone, I’d say,” Leonardo harrumphed. He handed everything over to Ezio; when doing so, he looked down at his state of undress  he just as swiftly looked up to meet Ezio’s eyes instead. 

 

Ezio couldn’t help himself—he didn’t stopped grinning and, on top of it, winked. “Thank you.”

 

Leonardo’s face turned even redder. “Yes, I’ll just… well,” he so eloquently put it, then scampered off upstairs. “Call me when you’re done!” he threw over his shoulder before making his escape. 

 

The clothes, Ezio was pleased to find, were similar to what Leonardo was wearing. Loosely fitted enough that they fit him well, despite Ezio being broader than Leonardo. He was grateful for the additional cloth and wiped down himself as thoroughly as he possibly could… the exception being his hair, of course. It would take ages to dry, it always did. He decided to let it out of its queue, though, in the hope that it would make it dry faster. It would undoubtedly turn curly from the water but—oh, well. Not getting hypothermia was much more important. But he mourned for his ribbon as he pulled it out of its knot and laid it in his hand, assessing it carefully. He had little to no experience with the care of different fabrics, so he couldn’t yet see if the ribbon was ruined or not. It was almost strange how sentimental he could become over such a small scrap of fabric. 

 

His hair brushed his shoulders, making him shiver even more from the sudden shock of water, as if his body was saying  _ oh no, you literally just patted me dry and now you ruin me again! You fiend, I trusted you!  _ The towel was nowhere near enough to dry his hair, as used as it already was from rubbing over literally every other part of him. Still, he tried. It didn’t do much, but he did try. He sighed, resigning himself to his hair’s fate. 

 

Pulling in the loose, soft clothes was almost as good as an orgasm. He was not exaggerating; he would know.  His hair left dark spots from where it dropped and even brushed against the fabric, but it was very little compared to before. The real, mind numbingly satisfying experience, however, was when he borrowed himself into the blanket Leonardo had provided. He swaddled himself in it like a baby, as much as he possibly could. It was the definition of bliss and he hummed, low in his chest, at the feel of it. 

 

“I’m decent now!” He called. The sound of footsteps came soon after. 

 

“I don’t think you’ve been decent a day in your life,” Leonardo said once he was close enough. 

 

“I would surprise you,” Ezio said. “I’ll have you know that one day, when I was three, I was perfectly well behaved. Dressed and polite, too. My parents still talk about it sometimes,” he joked. He has no such clear, decent memories. His childhood had all but melted into one big, thick clump of events, people and emotions. He had little understanding for people who told lengthy tales about one day in particular when they were children, complete with full memory of what people around him said. He was barely a person when he was five, symbolism was just words for things that had nothing to do with the actual thing. What he did remember was that he had been a little miscreant, and a good one at it, too.

 

Leonardo’s lips twitched. “I would tell them that it doesn’t do to dwell on the past, but I don’t think it would be well received.”

 

Ezio snorted. “You’re right, it wouldn’t be.” Something in the fireplace cracked and he whipped his head around. It was only the natural sounds of the fire, though, which had grown high and bright. He shuffled forwards and put his hands out once more. 

 

Leonardo caught his wrist and lowered his arm. “Careful, there could be sparks!” He chastised him. 

 

“But my hands are cold!” Ezio whined. 

 

“That’s because  _ all  _ of you is cold, and fingers are sensitive since they’re so thin. Put them between your thighs or in your armpits.”

 

“I have a better idea,” Ezio said. Leonardo didn’t have the time to ask  _ what?  _ before Ezio has grabbed the hand Leonardo had grabbed his wrist with, leaching of his friend’s body heat. He sighed in relief. “God, you’re so warm.”

 

He was happy that Leonardo didn’t pull away, or became irritated. Instead he just looked bemused—he even brought up his other hand so that he could envelope Ezio’s hands in his own. Ezio let out an even deeper sigh. “So warm.”

 

“It’s just you that’s cold,” Leonardo said. 

 

“Whatever, it’s helping me,” Ezio declared. A flash of a smile was sent his way, before Leonardo leaned forward, effectively blocking the view of his mouth with both their hands. “What’re you—“

 

His answer and in the form of hot hair caressing his knuckles, soft as a feather and just as light. A shiver trailed its way down his spine. Another breath came—his reaction was not as strong this time, but he still felt a tremble roll through his shoulders. Then Leonardo began to rub his hands between his as well, and Ezio felt every scratch of every hardened callus against his skin with aching clarity. 

 

It worked. Ezio felt a lot warmer everywhere, not just in his hands. “You’re a more effective furnace than your  _ furnace _ ,” he joked, shooting his friend a lopsided smile. 

 

Leonardo met his eyes; though he couldn’t see his mouth, his mirth was clear in the way the skin around his eyes crinkles, how his cheeks moved up higher. “Do let me know if I’m encroaching on your personal space,” he said. Ezio felt the vibrations of it rumble through his fingers.

 

“I don’t make a habit of being hypocritical,” he replied. Leonardo chuckled—and if he had felt it when he just spoke,  _ Lord  _ did he feel that. 

 

Leonardo cocked his head to the side, leaning back. Ezio tried not to sigh at the loss. The blonde looked out the window. “Do you hear that?” he asked. 

 

The deafening sound of his heartbeat drumming in his ears? Yes. “No…? I don’t hear anything,” he said. 

 

“Exactly,” Leonardo turned back to him. “It’s not raining anymore.”

 

Ezio’s eyes widened and he whipped his head around to look out the window. The pearls of rain on the glass were still, with only some of them still lazily trickling down in uneven patterns like rivers. There was no more pitter patter or thundering of water against the windows or the roof, only silence, accompanied by occasional noises of rainwater spilling down the gutters. 

 

“Fuck,” he swore. “If I had just waited half an hour then I wouldn’t have had to almost drown.”

 

“Hindsight is terribly clear,” Leonardo said, “Don’t dwell on it. Besides, I’m happy of it. I finally got to see you with your hair down. I had thought that ribbon was surgically attached to you, at this point.”

 

It was strange, yes, to feel his hair spill down around his face. It was more bothersome than anything at the moment, wet and windswept and tousled as it was. It definitely looked a mess. He supposed that he and Leonardo painted a similar picture, for anyone who would just see them without knowing the context. Dressed equally simply, in similar looking clothes, with hair of nearly equal lengths messy and hanging free. The major difference was that Ezio looked ill, cold and damp with his face now flushed—while Leonardo’s skin looked as healthy as it always did. Sans, of course, the bags under his eyes that were there every other week to remind you of his self-torturous work ethics. 

 

“Am I even more devilishly handsome than usual like this, casually disheveled and fresh from the frisk outdoors?” he quipped, throwing his hair in a dramatic fashion. 

 

“Temptation and sin personified. Lock up your daughters and your wives,” Leonardo deadpanned. His lip twitched though, Ezio saw it as a win. He shook his head. 

 

“I couldn’t even go to a brothel like this,” he sighed, hanging his head. “The ladies would throw themselves at me, free of charge.”

 

“Can’t have that,” Leonardo said. “What would Madame Paola say?”

 

Ezio was, suddenly, taken aback. “You know Paola?” 

 

“I may not be as… active as you are, but I’m not celibate,” Leonardo said. 

 

Uninvited images came to Ezio’s mind: of Leonardo in a candle lit corner of the pleasure house, leaned back in a chaise, with a half naked woman sprawled on top of him and yet more surrounding him, behaving like he saw most patrons do, throwing grins and lewd and rude comments around him. It was jarring, it didn’t fit the man he had come to known at all. How often did he go there, if he was there often enough to speak of Paola with such familiarity? Who did he see, what type did he like? Did he sneak in through the back, get his needs sated as quickly as possible or did some debauched part of him become unleashed in that house, something which needed the whole night for it to be sated? He couldn’t clearly say why, but the thought made Ezio nauseous.  He really felt sick, it was just so…  _ wrong.  _ He didn’t get it, it wasn’t like he himself was a saint, far from it. And his other friends had come with him multiple times, letting him see sides of them they never otherwise showed. Why did he feel differently about Leonardo, a man who he himself had labelled attractive, and selfish for not sharing it with the world? Was God laughing at him, or merely shaking His head in exasperation?

 

He swallowed the bile threatening to claw its way up and out of his throat. 

 

“How was the hell was I supposed to know that? Whenever I try to talk about sex you act like a prude!” He said. He did so with a grin big enough to tear his face clean in half, sharp and unnatural, with a laugh that sounded wrong even to himself. Maybe it was only to himself, because Leonardo did not look askance at him, he did not see through it. Ezio was too good an actor for that. 

 

“Being private isn’t the same as being a prude!” Leonardo protested. 

 

Ezio sputtered. “ _ Private _ —no! You’re telling me that all this time? We could’ve been going out together? You’ve deprived me of so many nights out!”

 

Leonardo scrunched his face up in confusion and distaste. “Going to a brothel isn’t a social event, Ezio,” he said. said. 

 

The noise Ezio made could only be described as that of a wounded animal. “You poor, wretched soul!” He wailed. He threw himself forwards to capture Leonardo by his shoulders, holding him fast so that he could look him straight in the eye. “You’ve missed out on a crucial fraternal bonding experience! It’s not about sex, it’s about  _ friendship! _ ”

 

Leonardo’s mouth was open, just slightly, and his eyebrows furrowed, the eyes themselves narrowed. He was… Befuddled, was the word. Confused, bewildered and perplexed. “You’re aware of the existence of taverns,  bars and restaurants, right? And other additional public spaces intended for socialisation; places that  _ aren’t  _ brothels? Because as far as I know, the only thing that separates a brothel from a bar are the  _ prostitutes. _ ”

 

Ezio tutted. “That’s just an added bonus,” he said. 

 

Leonardo barked a laugh, more out of shock than anything else. He gripped Ezio’s hands and pulled them down. “ _ What— _ “

 

Ezio smoothly slipped his hands free and planted them on either side of Leonardo’s face, right on the strangely soft whiskers. “The flirting, Leo!”

 

“Don’t call me Leo.”

 

“The flirting, Leonardo! The coming of age between boys where they share their first conquest, won by the power of charm! And the merciless teasing of those who succumb to their own awkwardness!”

 

“I still don’t see how you can’t get that at a bar.”

 

Ezio rolled his eyes and sighed, as overly long and dramatic as he could. “ _ Leo _ —“

 

“I object.”

 

“ _ Leonardo.  _ Kindly refer to your own speech about how I ruined that poor girl Rachele’s life by robbing her of her virginity like a thief in the night.”

 

His response was the unfurrowing of eyebrows and a slackening of the jaw, as Leonardo realised his point, and  _ ah-a _ ’d. 

 

“Point conceded,” he said, grabbing Ezio’s wrists again to pull his hands down from his face. “But it’s still my personal belief that… sex is a private matter.”

 

“And I concede that while the parts engaged in it are, as you say, private—“

 

“ _ Ha  _ ha.”

 

“—and the act itself is most often private as well, the social plays leading up to it are not. Having a good friend by your side almost always provides a boost of confidence and will allow you to pull off feats you never would have otherwise. Such as flirting with the most attractive woman in the room. Or flirting  _ at all _ , instead of just handing Paola the money and pointing to someone currently unoccupied.”

 

“I happen to find the latter much more effective. Not to mention timesaving.”

 

Hopeless! He was hopeless! Ezio keeled over with another groan, turning so that he fell comfortably and landed with his head in Leonardo’s lap. His friend let out a startled yelp at the sudden invasion of yet another part of space,  this time featuring,

 

“Your  _ hair _ is  _ wet _ ,” Leonardo said, sounding very unhappy indeed. 

 

“And you are an antisocial mess, and there’s no hope for you. And I’m too much of a good friend to drag you out against your will for the greater good, so I’m destined to stay here with you forever and gradually become an antisocial mess, too. A real and proper greek tragedy.”

 

“What’s our hamartia?”

 

“Yours is pride and mine is ambition. Because you’re too proud to admit that I am definitely right and I’m too ambitious to give up.”

 

“That sounds like we’re both too prideful, though. That neither of us can admit to being wrong and humble ourselves before the other.”

 

Hmm. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

 

“But I disagree.”

 

“Of course you do.”

 

“Because if pride was my hamartia then I would never have let you into my workshop. My fatal flaw is being messy. One day a stack of uncategorised stuff is going to grow so tall and unstable that it will collapse and kill me.”

 

Giggles burst forth from Ezio’s chest, uncontrollable and light. Not a very manly sound at all, he preferred a low and charming chuckle, so his first instinct was to stifle it. But, at the pleased look on Leonardo’s face, he decided to let it be. He didn’t voice what he believed his hamartia was, though. That, if anything, was guaranteed to kill their light hearted mood. 

 

His laughter died a natural death, but without the rain and the laughter, the room grew too quiet. He wasn’t used to a calm quiet like that, where he didn’t feel the immediate need to fill the silence. Instead, as it stretched on, he let his eyes fall closed, head still in Leonardo’s lap. The silence brought forward sounds he hadn’t paid attention to before; the crackling of the logs, the hiss of steam, both their breaths that had evened out to match the other. 

 

“I could fall asleep like this,” he said, voice only a bit above a whisper. Anything louder would feel like a shout. 

 

“Please don’t, my legs would asleep then, too,” Leonardo said. Even without looking, Ezio could hear his smile. “But you’re welcome to stay the night if you’d like.”

 

Ezio smirked. “I would love that. I think my sister would have an aneurism.”

 

“Oh? What for?”

 

“She asked me, right before I came here, why I’m away so often. I told her I was seeing a friend, but she was  _ determined  _ not to believe me and is instead of the firm belief that you’re some poor lovestruck girl I’m having an illicit affair with. Very dramatic.”

 

“I’m terribly flattered, but I don’t think I could pull off a skirt,” Leonardo mused. 

 

“Nonsense. You would look fetching in anything. Anyway, according to her, I’d be the one pulling the skirt off of you.” 

 

May a thousand curses be heaved over Leonardo, he actually chuckled all low and charming  _ naturally.  _

 

“The beard would still give her pause.”

 

“Shave it off, then,” Ezio said. “I bet it would make you look years younger.”

 

“Of course it would, that’s why I grew it in the first place,” Leonardo sniffed. 

 

“I can’t even grow a beard,” Ezio bemoaned, putting a hand over his heart.  “I’m too pretty.”

 

His friend snorted and slapped at his hand. “You’re just too young.”

 

“And you’re, what? Four, five years older than me? So much wiser and more grown, all of twenty-four. It’s a miracle your beard isn’t grey yet!”

 

“It’s not very hard to look wise and grown up next to you.”

 

“And isn’t that  _ generous  _ of me—sacrificing my own dignity in the service of making you look better by comparison? You ought to thank me, really.”

 

“ _ Oh _ , magnanimous and fabulous, Ezio, how could I ever repay your kindness?” Leonardo titters, and Ezio is very happy that he isn’t the only one who can produce such unmanly sounds. 

 

“Seeing as you’ve opened your home to a sodden freeloader like myself, I would say we’re even,” he replied. 

 

Leonardo hummed. “The thing is, though, I’ve only the one bed—but I might have a spare mattress stuffed away so where. Or some blankets? You’ll get the bed and I’ll improvise a nest of some sort.”

 

_ God damnit, Leonardo, you and your naturally selfless and kind ways.  _ “What? No! I’m not taking your bed from you!”

 

“I’ll be fine! I’m used to falling asleep in a chair anyway, so a comfortable vertical surface of any kind is an upgrade, even if it is on the floor.”

 

That statement didn’t bring him much comfort. Ezio could very clearly imagine the kinks in both his back and neck he would get if he tried to sleep in a chair. Unnecessary torture was what it was. “Let’s just share,” he said, “since we’re both being obstinate. There’s no reason either of us should suffer the floor.”

 

The immediate response was silence, as Leonardo considered his words. He didn’t know what made him hesitate more, the fact that he would be sharing his bed with a stranger for the first time in… ever, as far as Ezio knew—or the fact that he would be sharing it with Ezio specifically. 

 

“I promise to keep my hands to myself,” he joked. It worked; Leonardo snorted, and his shoulder relaxed infinitesimally. 

 

“Alright,” he agreed, “As long as you keep that particular detail from your sister. Wouldn’t want to give her any further arguments for you  _ seducing  _ me.”

 

He laughed. “God forbid! No, I’ll just tell her I slept at the brothel. That will  _ really _ piss her off.”

 

The look he was given was nothing but bemused. “You don’t have much of a sense of self-preservation, do you.” 

 

“Absolutely not,” he agreed. “In any case, we have many hours yet until the sun goes down. What will we do in the meantime?”

 

There was a beat as Leonardo thought. His fingers idly traced Ezio’s hairline, running down through his damp locks. He wasn’t doing anything, not really; but Ezio felt pampered nonetheless. It was most definitely something he could get used to, he had to make an effort to commandeer Leonardo’s lap more often in the future. “Do you know how to cook?” 

 

Ezio snorted, then tilted his head back to look up at his friend. “Not at all. Why?”

 

Leonardo's smile was both sanguine and teasing. “I thought I might teach you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i only read my very own fic these mauve colours for the first time once i started publishing this story and i had this written before that, so until after i'd written it i had no idea i'd written about ezio running through rain to leonardo and leo warming him up before LMAO.  
> i am a dumb bitch with terrible taste.  
> i will NEVER change.  
> i will NEVER improve.  
> this is a promise.
> 
> in other news i was wondering why it is that writing for ezio comes naturally to me and attempting anything from leo's POV is like peeling off nails?? esp as ezio isn't even in my top 5 fav assassins (do not ask, you will be gifted with a short story as to why this is) AS IT FUCKING TURNS OUT, we have the same personality type. we're both ENFJ. i don't know why that offends me so much but my first thought was like... **there's not enough room for two clowns in this town**


	8. Ravioli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezio is lost in thyme
> 
> This is him trying to drink boiling pasta water: https://youtu. be/2Ux3JytLNKY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter because guess which bitch went ahead and made three ca 5k chapters in the course of one week? this bitch.

It truly was a day of learning for Ezio, even if it wasn’t the learning that his tutors and his parents had intended. Not only had he learned what the upper floor of Leonardo’s home looked like, he had now found out about the existence of his kitchen. 

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought about it before. He had never seen Leonardo eat, and barely ever drink. He had just never considered the fact that Leonardo needed sustenance of any kind, much less how he procured said food. 

 

Ezio had never had to question anything related to food, neither where or how it was made, nor how other people went about it. He ate at set times, and if he wasn’t at the table, he was oh so kindly fetched, most often by his own or, later, Petruccio’s caretaker. Was he absent from home entirely without warning, he would have to buy some, and then face the consequences of his rude behaviour once he returned home. Logically, he knew of the existence of cooks and scullery maids and whatnot; practically, he had never seen one with his own eyes. He had heard them be discussed and that was all. It was statistically likely that he had had sex with one, while unaware of their profession. They weren’t humans, really, only machines that existed in the background, underneath it all, keeping everything sailing smoothly. 

 

This naturally meant that he was clueless in a kitchen. 

 

And that he had never even held a kitchen knife before. And therefore, never cut herbs before. 

 

“Mince these, as small as you can,” Leonardo instructed, placing what looked to Ezio like twigs on the cutting board in front of him. “I’ll get started on the dough”, he said, turning back to his own prepared place on the table. He poured a frankly outstanding amount of flour on the table, arranged it into a small mountain, then made a hollow in the middle of it, where he cracked eggs. All while Ezio stood next to him, staring dumbly, holding a kitchen knife for the first time in his life. 

 

Leonardo checked on him from the corner of his eye and then turned back fully when he saw that Ezio was frozen still. 

 

“Sorry,” he smiled apologetically, “Teaching has never been my strong suit. It doesn’t come naturally to me. Here—“ he took the herbs and placed them neatly on the board, before gripping Ezio’s hands. Not tightly, but to guide him to place the knife over the herbs. 

 

“Cut with the lower end of the blade, never the top,” he was told, as Leonardo placed the very end of his palm, almost his wrist, on top of the blade’s dull edge, curling his fingers by enveloping them with his own. Ezio was intimately reminded of the fact that they were of the same height, as they stood so close that they were almost pressed cheek to cheek. He kept his eyes stubbornly fixed on their hands and watched as his friend continued to guide him. He was dry now, warm too, but Leonardo still made him feel much, much hotter just by standing next to him. Maybe he was running a fever, after all? Best not to mention it, until he collapsed; he oughtn't worry Leonardo needlessly. Then again, maybe they could lay in front of the fire like they had before and — _no, focus._ _You’re holding a knife, for God’s sake._

 

“You keep the other hand on top of the blade to keep it in place, so it doesn’t slip. Then you press down the butt of the blade with your hand on the handle.” Leonardo withdrew his hands, but didn’t step away yet, watching as Ezio carried out the instructions. And it was easy, it was ridiculous really, that he had felt so lost over something so small but—then, the sense of pride he got from cutting twigs into tiny pieces was ridiculous, too, so who cares? 

 

He liked the sound the knife made when he used it, the soft  _ thwack  _ of it hitting the board, the  _ crish _ of mincing the herbs, the rustle of the mellow scrapes caused by him shuffling the chopped parts to the side. He liked how intense the smell of  _ thyme _ (Leonardo had called it. Rhymes with time, lime, crime, mime, Jesus Christ why couldn’t he fucking  _ focus _ ) got when he cut through it, likely no stronger than before but still the illusion held fast. He tried to cut it faster and felt satisfaction burst like bubbles in his chest when it went well. But that also meant that he was done all too soon, and so he stood and regarded the small pile of tasty twigs morosely. 

 

He looked up when Leonardo nudged his shoulder with his own. His friend had rolled up his sleeves before starting and it was well that he did, as covered in flour and eggs as his hands and wrists were, especially so when still deep in the half-formed dough. 

 

“Looking good,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a crooked smile. 

 

Ezio matched it with a smile of his own, “You aren’t doing too badly yourself.”

 

His friend shrugged. “Practice makes perfect. It is the same with all things,” he said, going back to… shaping?  _ Shaping _ the dough. 

 

“Do you always cook for yourself?” He asked. What he wanted to ask was why Leonardo seemed to have no servants whatsoever. It wasn’t odd by any means — Ezio was not so ignorant that he thought every household under the sun could afford them — but factoring in the sheer size of Leonardo’s home, as well as his bachelor status, it was curious that he didn’t even have someone to come and clean occasionally. Maybe it was simply that he didn’t trust anyone to organise his systematic chaos, or snoop around his more ambitions machine designs. Asking it outright would have been rude, however. 

 

More specifically, not having a cook wasn’t so odd, as they were one of the more expensive servants you could hire. But Ezio was used to seeing most unmarried men Leonardo’s age live in their family home until they found a wife. Or, if they did live alone for one reason or another, go out to eat for dinner nearly exclusively. 

 

“When I remember to,” Leonardo replied. “Sometimes when I’m busy, I forgot to eat at all. It’s a terrible habit of mine.” He huffed a short laugh, adding, “I’m lucky I even learned. Most, you know…” he gestured to Ezio, trailing off, “… don’t.”

 

“Yeah, I was born to depend on a cook for the rest of my life,” Ezio said wryly, “And even if I wasn’t, my parents would inevitably foist me off on some poor, young wife that would do it for me. You’re the exception, my friend,” he smiled. That wasn’t new, of course; Leonardo was the exception to most, if not all, of the established rules. (Why was that? Why could he be that, while the rest of them were all stuck?)

 

“True enough, I suppose. My mother taught me, saying it was better to be safe than sorry, since I was unlikely to get a wife who would do it for me.”

 

Ezio’s spontaneous reaction was something between spluttering in surprise and laughing, so the result sounded like he was choking. “ _ Seriously?  _ Your  _ mother  _ said that? God, I’m so sorry.”

 

Rather than sorry, Leonardo just seemed bemused. “Do I seem like the marrying type to you?”

 

“Are you joking? Of course you do!” Ezio protested. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re irresistible before it sticks?”

 

“At  _ least _ three.”

 

The piece of thyme thrown his way landed in his hair and stuck in it. The piece of rosemary that shortly followed bounced off his shoulder. “What— don’t throw the herbs! We need those!” Another piece of rosemary pricked his forehead. He stared at Ezio, unimpressed, as yet another piece fell short of him and fell to the floor in front of him instead. “Are you done?”

 

The next piece hit his nose.

  
  
  


After the herbs were all done and no more was thrown, Ezio was upgraded to assistant ravioli manager, helping Leonardo shape the ravioli and fill them up. The repetitive motions were mind numbing, but in a strangely good way. It was tranquil, really. Except for when he messed up and cursed under his breath, and Leonardo would try not to sound like he thought it was funny. 

 

Watching the water boil and checking the pasta was boring, though. It took forever to see the first bubble rise to the surface and then, once the ravioli was in, the smell was so enticing that it made his mouth water— but he couldn’t  _ eat it.  _

 

“It’s boiling. You’ll burn your tongue off,” Leonardo said, to which Ezio just muttered, “Killjoy.” 

 

But everything was made worth it when they could finally sit down, once again in front of the fire at Ezio’s insistence, and devour the fruit of their labour. (The mere thought of trying to clear all the…  _ stuff  _ on one of the tables enough to eat off of it was stressful enough to give him hives) It was, Ezio thought, knowing full well what he was comparing it to,  _ orgasmic.  _

 

The groan he made when he took the first bite was obscene, but he couldn’t find it in himself to neither try to stop himself, nor even care. 

 

“God is a ravioli,” he declared. “God is  _ this  _ ravioli.”

 

“What does that make us, if we’re the creators?” Leonardo wondered. 

 

“Its humble instruments.”

 

Leonardo almost choked on his forkful. 

Ezio took another ravioli and then nodded to himself. “Cooking is worth it,” he decided. 

 

“A groundbreaking discovery,” Leonardo replied, most certainly making fun of him. Let him, Ezio was  _ right.  _

 

“So, who taught you to cook? I never asked.”

 

Leonardo’s brows rose. “My mother,” he said. ”She said it was crucial that I knew how, since I wouldn’t have a wife to do it for me. And that even if I did, any adult should know how to care for themselves.”

 

“Huh,” he had never heard anyone say anything close to that before. Maybe it was because of his status that their childhood experiences were so different, like with much else. Then the first thing Leonardo had said registered. “She said you wouldn’t get a  _ wife?  _ Not just that it was  _ unlikely?  _ How old were you? Was that just a running trend through your childhood, her repeatedly telling you that you’re never gonna marry?!”

 

“Ten, eleven. I can’t be sure. I would help her much earlier, but I made it very clear that I didn’t want to marry anyone but my work around that time, specifically.”

 

“Christ I kind of thought she was joking, when you mentioned it before. Or that  _ you  _ were joking. And she didn’t discourage you? No pleads for you to give her grandchildren? What kind of mother doesn’t want grandchildren?” 

 

Leonardo huffed a laugh. “No, none. I think she realised what I wanted before even I did. Any conflicts she’s had about it, she’s kept to herself.”

 

“She sounds…” mean when you first hear it, but judging by the mans at before him and his explanations, she sounded fair, good hearted, intelligent and patient and understanding and all the things his own mother was sometimes, but never quite enough. Like the type of person who would bear and raise the fair, good hearted, intelligent and patient and understanding man Ezio was proud to call his friend, and all the things Ezio wished he was just a little bit more like. “Like a good mother, despite the bluntness.”

 

“She is,” Leonardo said. He was looking at his hands, his left in particular, examining it as he turned it palm-up and then down again, stretching his long, callused fingers. “I am very lucky, I would say. She has only ever tried to make me the best version of myself that I can be, and never tried to change me. It is very easy to get the two confused. I still do, at times. It’s a continuous struggle.”

 

“What’s the difference?” Ezio said, feeling stupid at having to ask. But Leonardo wouldn’t judge him, he knew. 

 

“The same difference as between evolution and reinvention. One is trying to make something better, to perfect it. The other is trying to change its very essence and make it something else entirely. Instead of teaching a bird to fly, you try to teach it to crawl as if it were a snake.”

 

“Change can be good, though. Even forcing change, when it is necessary,” Ezio said. It might be better to be a snake than a bird. 

 

Leonardo tilted his head. “Try enough. But when changing yourself, or a person, you should think to yourself, why? Why do I want them to change, or why is it necessary? Examine your motives first. Why would it be better to make them change than to help them grow? Will changing them help them, or will it help  _ me _ ? 

 

“My mother could have forced me to become the marrying type, and say, rightfully so, that it was for my own good. That life is kinder to a married man. She would hurt me, but have good intentions. Ultimately, she decided not to, knowing that life would be more dangerous for me, but that I would be happier this way.”

 

“Sorry, but… I get what you’re saying and those metaphors were great, and you’re right, of course but, I just—how can being unmarried be dangerous? I know the weight familial duties has, but you’re not exactly the first to choose work and craft over family. You’re not going to get hunted for sport because you’d prefer to remain unmarried. Hell, lie and say you’re celibate and you might even get some nice words between all the jokes made behind your back!”

 

Leonardo’s face closed off, as if a curtain was drawn before it. He didn’t speak, but neither did the touch the rest of his food, or his drink. He sat still, staring off into space to the side, face set. 

 

Ezio had a niggling feeling in his gut, and the back of his neck. As if he was staring the answer in the face, but couldn’t quite make it out. The pieces were all there, he could feel, but he couldn’t see the picture they made. 

 

“Leonardo…?” He reached forward and laid his hand over Leonardo’s left. “My friend, is something troubling you?”

 

All the breath in Leonardo rushed out at once, too quickly to be a sigh. “Yes,” he said. He pulled his hand back from Ezio and the absence made him feel quite cold. His friend pulled his lips up, though his eyes remained flat. “It’s nothing. I’m getting maudlin, it must be the weather getting to me.”

 

“The rain’s stopped, you noticed it first,” Ezio frowned. “Look, whatever it is, I can  _ tell  _ it’s bothering you. If you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine. But you can  _ trust _ me. And I think you would feel better if you said. Even if I can’t help, I can listen.”

 

“I’m fine, really. I don’t want to bother you when it isn’t necessary.”

 

“You know…” Ezio twirled his fork in the air, before using it to point at his friend. “For a supposed genius, you’re quite dense.”

 

Leonardo blinked. “Sorry?”

 

“Talking about your feelings and problems is never  _ necessary.  _ But it  _ does  _ make you feel a whole lot better. You’ve been nothing but helpful to me and have listened to me moan more than  _ necessary _ , and tried your best to help me in what way you can with advice and just—listening, to me. And it’s helped, a lot. Won’t you please let me do the same?”

 

“I…” Leonardo bit his lip and the hand he had lying on the table slowly clenched to a fist, until the knuckles were stark white. Then he relaxed and laid his hand flat down again, straightening in his chair. “With this? No, not now. But—soon, I promise. Right now I just,” he visibly stifled a sigh, “I can’t. I’m sorry, it is not that I don’t want you to know, it is just that I have never had to put it into words before. I don’t want to ramble and risk being completely incoherent.”

 

He wondered what it was that could trouble Leonardo so. He had seen him get  _ maudlin _ before, downright depressed, even, but it was usually clearly connected to his work or some other, simple explanation. Feelings of frustration over lack of progress or insufficient results, frustration over commissions, frustration over his inability to adhere to deadlines, frustration over his patrons and customers—Leonardo was frustrated a lot and quite often, come to think of it. He was at his worst when he was frustrated over multiple things at once and felt both lacking and hopeless because of it. 

 

But those were easily recognisable and could be fought off. It had frankly taken until today for Ezio to realise that sometimes, Leonardo’s quiet and pensive moments of introspection and analysis… might have, at times, been something else. 

 

Leonardo didn’t touch Ezio nearly as often as Ezio touched him, but it was never an issue. But at times, more and more often recently, his friend would get  _ that _ sort of quiet after Ezio got really close. Leonardo would welcome flattery and carefree touches to his shoulder, clasping hands and embraces, with bright eyes and dimpled cheeks, open invitations for more. Then, immediately, his face would freeze, then fall, gradually; as if he had been struck, and the pain was slow to register. Or he would suggest they do something, anything, like cook when neither were hungry. It did not happen every time, and Ezio felt it, in his gut, that the problem was not, at least not  _ solely _ , on him.  

 

“Alright… I respect that you don’t want to share it with me,” Ezio finally said. “But I  _ do  _ think you would feel better if you talked about it. Talking to you has taught me that.”

 

There was yet another heavy pause where Leonardo sat in silence, food all but forgotten, looking in the distance without seeing. “It’s always hardest to take your own advice, I suppose,” he said. “But… I will keep it in mind. I promise. Like I said, I want to tell you, I just don’t know how yet.”

 

Ezio nodded. “I get it. Let’s leave it for now,” he said, spearing a ravioli with his fork as if it were an enemy on the battlefield. It made him feel a little bit better. He was thinking of things that would improve his own mood when he was feeling down. Sex was on top of that list, but going by their earlier brothel-centered conversation he could cross that out. But, they could always do something he usually did while, before or after having sex. 

“Do you have any wine?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it made sense to me to give Leonardo cooking skills but please don’t mistake him having them for him ever like... remembering to use them. Ezio is there? perfect he’s a very special guest who requires sustenance to function. when Leonardo is by himself? aha ha. if instant noodles were a thing in Renaissance Italy he would be 70% sodium. the other thirty percent are avocados (eaten as they are with a spoon), chocolate Oatly and chaotic good/neutral gay energy


	9. Vino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "don't be stupid, katy perry can't be a girl! the singer says 'i kissed a girl' and it's physically impossible for girls to kiss other girls! physically!!! impossible!!!"  
> \- little swedish me w limited english skills before i knew i was a whole ass 100% free range lesbian.
> 
> yes this is actually the plot of this chapter i am for real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leonardo: it's.... suspicious  
> ezio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AyNUbS75CbQ
> 
> good news this story has officially hit over 50k words in the google doc.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: (spoilers)  
> discussions of homophobia (mostly internalised but a lot of societal bs values),  
> use of a homophobic slur  
> leo is terrified of being seen as predatory so he craves being loved, he's dying for it, but has before now been completely reluctant to Surrender To The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known bc of that internalised fear

He was right.

 

Getting drunk with a close friend always solved any and all issues related to boredom and tension. And Leonardo was a giggly _ , clingy  _ drunk. Why they hadn’t tried this sooner was beyond him. He wasn’t drunk, really, not yet, but he was  _ juuust _ the right amount of buzzed to let himself be a little stupid. 

 

They were back in front of the fire, shoulder to shoulder, with Leonardo’s legs crossed under him and Ezio’s stretched out wide before him. Leonardo had been a little bit reluctant to share his wine for anything other than appreciation in moderation, but Ezio had promised to bring him more, and more expensive, wine with him the next time as compensation. And he was good for the money, which they both knew so — naturally they had both gotten drunk. Ezio had gotten drunk enough to start sharing  _ embarrassing  _ brothel stories, that really didn’t flatter him or anyone else at all, except maybe the prostitutes, and Leonardo was drunk enough to allow it. 

 

Leonardo wasn’t drunk enough, though, he didn’t think. Or, at least, he was the most articulate drunk Ezio had ever met, because he didn’t trip over his fancy words even once. But that was just part of the charming weirdness that was Leonardo, he guessed. Weird, charming, warm, Leonardo. 

 

And Ezio was  _ so warm  _ at this point! There was fire in front of them, then the alcohol buzzing in his veins, the natural warmth of laughing and Leonardo right next to him, pressed against his side and they had touched many, many times in the past hour or two hours or so and were still touching and he hadn’t made an excuse to stop even  _ once.  _ Getting drunk was a  _ great  _ idea. Good  _ job,  _ Ezio.

 

“… So every time we visit it now Eduardo tries to disguise himself and it  _ never, ever works.  _ He even tried a fake  _ beard  _ once, but it was so bad that you could see the string around his head. And she just — walked up to him, pulled it off his face and asked him if he’d learned which hole was which yet. Paola was so mad at her for being so rude to a man with  _ money  _ but we were all laughing too much for her to say anything and after that everyone wanted to fuck Aurelia ‘cause they were all a little bit in love with her, anyway, so she couldn’t be mad about it.”

 

Leonardo was leaning over him then, the top of his head near his nose, his hair tickling him something awful. He was laughing, nearly completely silent, only his short breaths and shaking shoulders revealing his mood, as Ezio couldn’t see his face. 

 

“But she didn’t go for anyone else, though, she went for me. I’m not usually into being humiliated, but there’s something about Aurelia that that makes me not mind it so much. Even when she says that I’m about as seductive as a drunken jester, and not even a funny one. So I was intimidated, but still turned on, and also drunk, so I had to—I failed at putting it on the first try. And the second. Now whenever she sees me she says ‘Hey, virgin!’”

 

His friend wheezed. “ _ Aurelia _ ! I know what you’re talking about, when I was growing out my beard asked why my pubes had emigrated north.”

 

Ezio fell over, his left arm coming up to curl tight around Leonardo in an instinctive search for support as he let laughter overcome him. “ _ Christ!  _ What’d you answer?!”

 

“It,” Leonardo paused to wheeze again, “it was too crowded down south. Caused a housing crisis.” Ezio was not going to stop laughing anytime soon. “It’s wonderful, I think. How Aurelia can get away with saying anything. We all need to be beautifully insulted sometimes, I believe.”

 

“I agree—that Aurelia is very pretty. Very. But there’s no such thing, my pretty friend, as a beautiful insult.”

 

“No, no, my  _ friend _ ,” Leonardo sat up, then threw his right arm around Ezio’s shoulders, so that they were practically a mirror. “There  _ is _ . There is a difference between being called an idiot, and being told that you are a miracle, because there shouldn’t be a way for a man to survive with a brain the size of a mosquito. There is a difference between being called promiscuous, and being told you would have been Helen’s opposite, who instead of launching a thousand ships, went after every single man aboard. The difference is in the heart! The creativity, the effort spent on its creation!”

 

“Ah, so it’s beautiful… because they — cared? Is that what you mean?”

 

“Yes!” Leonardo practically shouted in his ear. He was apparently very invested in the topic of proper insults. “Because they care! Not bothering to insult you properly means that you aren’t even worth the time and effort to come up with something original, you’re literally nothing to them other than an annoyance. A personalised insult? Means they know you.”

 

“Then I guess you’d prefer being actively hated over being ignored?”

 

“No, no, I’m fine with being ignored. Better that than persecuted. What I can’t stand is being dismissed. It’s the same as rejection, no? They look at you, see you, then decide you’re not worth it. Insults like the ones Aurelia spews are great because I can’t even be angry, she knows what to say to rankle someone too well. Ah,  _ that  _ is a woman.”

 

They would have to disagree on that; there was nothing worse than being ignored. Dismissal was just one form of it, but at least being dismissed means that you had been acknowledged and shit, no, he was not gonna devolve into a sad drunk. No.

 

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever let me know what kind of woman you like, Leo,” Ezio said instead.

 

“Leonardo. And no, it’s not, because that’s just why I like Aurelia. Her insults, more specifically.”

 

“What do you look for in your bed partners, then?” he pressed. Leonardo tilted his head back, eyes narrowed in thought.

 

“I don’t know… I rarely get the luxury to choose; I suppose mutual interest is enough.”

 

Mutual interest? Oh, that was just appalling, that ought to have been a given. “You don’t have the luxury to _choose? Excuse me?_ You should—you should have a list of criteria a mile long, with the way you are. Look at me, I am really fucking handsome and I know it, so I don’t have to pay for women if I don’t want to, but _you!_ ” He pointed Leonardo firmly in his (firm, oh God that’s firm) chest to bring his point home. Leonardo just blinked. “You’re so bloody… exotic!” Leonardo sputtered. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m serious! Blonde, blue eyes, all freckle-y, that’s exotic! And you’re _mysterious._ Ladies love it when you’re mysterious and you don’t even try to be. You just are. That’s even more mysterious.”

 

“Will you stop insisting that I’m handsome?! It’s—improper!”

 

“What! Why?”

 

“You’re not supposed to say that to your friends so often, it makes it sound…” Leonardo’s voice suddenly got much lower and much more serious, “… suspicious.”

 

Now it was Ezio’s turn to laugh. “Suspicious!”

 

“It is! We’re both  _ men. _ ”

 

“My friend, you’re the artist here, don’t tell me that there’s anything wrong with a little appreciation of aesthef… asthefix,  _ natural  _ beauty. There is nothing sexy about a very nice flower, except for when poets turn them into vaginas,” Leonardo pulled a face, “I know, God in heaven, they do that a lot. My point is that it’s pretty and we say so, without thinking that My Word! That man wants to fuck this flower! That’s not a thing that people think. If I repeatedly told a woman how pretty she was then yes, it wouldn’t be weird to assume that I want to fuck that woman. A  _ man  _ appreciating the beauty found in his manly male friend is  _ not  _ weird, because unless there are no women around then men don’t fuck other men. Simple.  _ That means  _ that I can call you handsome as much as I damn well please and no one can say anything about it.”

 

Leonardo’s eyes were pinched shut and he put up a hand to stop him, and say, “Wait. Hold on, what do you mean ‘unless there are no women around then men don’t fuck other men’? What was that?”

 

Ezio blinked. “Isn’t it, you know, obvious? Laying with another man as you lay with a woman is a sin and all, as the Very Good Book But Rather Dry Book says. But when there are no other women around then it’s fine, because then you have no other choice, but you still have needs and God gets that. Right? So, when you have no other choice, that’s fine, but when you have a choice, then it’s a sin.

 

“Leonardo?”

 

His friend was sitting bent over, with his face hidden in his hands. He groaned once, long and drawn out, muffled by his palms. Eyebrows knit, Ezio raised a hand to rub his back.

 

“Are you alright? Is it the wine?”

 

Leonardo dragged his hands down his face and slowly sat back up again. “No, definitely not. I’m just. I. What? That has to be the strangest interpretation of that particular rule I have ever heard. How the,  _ how  _ did you come to—that conclusion?”

 

“My father lectured me on about it once. I almost never see him actually angry, so the lesson stuck, let’s just say. Nevermind about that, let’s change the subject.”

 

Leonardo, however, shook his head and looked at him as if he had spontaneously grown another pair of eyes and wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. “Your father? Why did he do that?”

 

A burst of hesitation clenched his stomach into a knot; he had never told another soul, but if there was one person who didn’t seem to have a judging bone in his body, it was Leonardo. “When I was fifteen, he caught me fumbling in a cupboard at a party. Clothes on, but still undeniably sexual. That wasn’t the first time that had happened, but it was the first time that he caught me with another boy. Like I said. He was  _ angry. _ ”

 

Leonardo wasn’t looking at him. Leonardo was gazing off into space, somewhere over Ezio’s shoulder. Then, he put his face into his hands again and made the strangest noise Ezio had ever heard him make: a high-pitched keening, the like of which he had only ever heard come from puppies, himself the night the night he found out about Cristina’s marriage, Federico trying to be annoying on purpose and his friend Matteo, drunk as drunk can be and having recently been kicked in the balls. That sort of keen. He was quick to try and explain it away,

 

“It was years ago, we never took our clothes off and besides, I haven’t done it again. In the great scheme of things, I think I’ve done far worse things, but that’s a mistake that I swear I haven’t repeated. I know priests say that sinful thoughts count as sins, but it’s a great mark of ‘hey, you tried and did alright!’ to not fall for said thoughts? Right? That has to be the only sin I’ve actively resisted, save murder. And that’s not something I’m planning on any time soon, fighting is fine but killing people? No way, not for me. That’s gross, I’m not interested. Anyway, I was young and stupid and snogged and very nearly almost rubbed off a boy in a closet, but I haven’t done it since because my father—you know.”

 

“I’m not judging you for… what you did with that boy, I promise you. It’s just a lot to process at once.” Leonardo took a deep breath. “In this very convoluted moral lesson your father gave you, that I’m still wrapping my head around by the way, was there any mention of men who are incapable of sexual attraction to women? Any at all?”

 

Ezio snorted. “That’s not a thing.”

 

“… it is.”

 

“No, it’s not. That’s impossible. It’s a choice. All men want to have sex with women. I mean yeah the Church has a lot to say about sodomites, but they aren’t real, right? It’s not a thing. Men don’t want to have sex with other men.”

 

Leonardo looked weary, face and shoulders both slack. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, then reached for the nearest bottle of wine. Instead of pouring more into his cup, he took the bottle by the neck, pressed his lips to the opening, then titled his head back and drank. 

 

And drank. 

 

And it was actually sort of terrifying how much wine Leonardo could drink from that bottle in one go. He wasn’t even breathing, was he?

 

Finally he put it down with a heavy thud and took a long line of heavy breaths, all with his eyes screwed shut. His hand did not leave the bottle neck. 

 

“I have a secret of my own,” he said. “And it is very important that you never tell it to another soul, because if you did, I would die. That’s not an exaggeration. I  _ would _ die. Telling it would be tantamount to killing me, because it would eventually result in someone actually killing me. I am not being dramatic, if anything I’m being stupid for even considering telling you this. It’s what I wanted but couldn’t tell you before, and here I was, thinking I had time to think about how to introduce the subject, how to explain myself and to mentally just prepare myself from the situation. I thought I had  _ time  _ but your father’s a liar, apparently, and now I’m in a hurry, apparently. So understand that I won’t say this well but if I’m to say it at all then you have to promise not to tell.”

 

The air felt charged. If it had been warm from the fire before, it was now hot in a way it could only be before the sky released its first lightning bolt after hours of building and building up the static. There were right in the moment before that bolt struck, Ezio could feel it. He swallowed, mouth now dry when it hasn’t been before, his tongue feeling like it was too big to fit in his mouth, like he could choke on it, and would trip over it. 

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever trusted anyone as much as I trust you,” Ezio said. It was true, stupid as it was. Years of life on this earth, a good family and many friends, and close loved ones. That they would all pale in comparison to the trustworthiness of this man that he had known for only a scant two months, soon three, should be laughable. Leonardo was still largely a mystery to him, because Leonardo hadn’t trusted him with as much as Ezio had poured out from himself. Maybe, this thing, was why? If it was serious enough to be a death sentence, then it ought to be serious enough to affect each and every aspect of his life in major ways. He had to know. “I want you to know that you can trust me, too. You’ve seen me at my worst, and known me at my most cruel, but you still treated me like I was worth more than a damn. You gave it for free. I want to earn that, now.”

 

Leonardo took another swig from the bottle. “I’m not attracted to women.”

 

… Huh?

 

Either picking up on Ezio’s confusion, or just wanting to fill the silence with what had clearly been bottled up air tight within him for—however long, Leonardo decided to just babble on.

“You better change your ideas in what is and isn’t possible, because the thought of having sex with a woman is about as appealing to me as eating rotten fruit. I would happily be kicked in the groin if the alternative was having sex with a woman. I don’t understand the appeal of breasts, they’re lumps of fat and tissue and they look strange. I really do only go to the brothel to sketch the women there, some of them have offered themselves for free and I’ve refused because I really don’t want to say yes. Aurelia put her hand down my trousers and I almost screamed and then bolted out of the building without even taking my things back with me. Including my favourite brush. I had to come back an hour or so later once I’d calmed down.”

 

The silence was deafening. Ezio had no idea what sort of expression he was making, because he could not move one single muscle. In the meanwhile, Leonardo simply sat there, clutching the bottle tight enough to turn his knuckles white, waiting for Ezio to gather himself and cast doom upon him and Ezio—didn’t get it. 

 

“You…” he struggled to get the words out, “… don’t like sex?” Was that it? Voluntary celibacy. That was strange and embarrassing enough. That had to be it. 

 

That caused a reaction. A sharp, hysterical laugh tore its way out of Leonardo and pierced the air, high, frightening and sounding anything but happy, while still being amused.

 

“ _ God _ , no, it’s not that. I enjoy sex, the only thing I don’t enjoy is that I don’t have enough of it.”

 

His mind was completely blank. “Then… how…?” How did he not have enough of it did he need help or 

 

“I enjoy sex with men. I’m attracted to men, and only men. It’s not a choice, I’ve tried women and I just couldn’t. I could barely even kiss them; I just  _ couldn’t. _ I’ve loved men my entire life, I knew I wanted to kiss boys and not girls as a child, before I even knew what sex was. I didn’t choose it. The only thing I’ve chosen about it is to not live a lie, but also to not risk my life. My mother has known since I asked why boys couldn’t just marry other boys. That’s why she knew I would never marry at all. Not because no woman would have me, but because if I ever met the love of my life, I would not be permitted to marry him.”

 

“You… are a sodomite?” The Bible and the Church did mention sodomites, sometimes. Sodomy was a thing, true enough, he knew that, but he always figured the warning against sodomites were just… like those warnings about demons. Or werewolves, or ghosts; probably made up to scare people into behaving and not falling for the whole being a sinner business. Sodomy? A thing that existed that you could do, but shouldn’t, unless there was no other choice (men having needs and all that), just like murder was a thing you should only do if you really needed to. In order to defend yourself, to clarify—that sort of need. Sodomites didn’t sound like people the way many murderers did, though. You could understand murderers, sometimes, understand that they were flawed people. Maybe they murdered for revenge of for love or out of desperation. Sodomites sounded like those strange murderers that were more monsters than men, those who killed for the thrill. They seduced or raped other men, mostly young men, they preyed on the young and weak and etc. for… no reason. Leonardo was the complete opposite of that, he was kindness and understanding and generosity all wrapped up in a handsome package; beautiful inside and out. That didn’t sound like a sodomite to him. 

 

Leonardo pulled a face and took another swig of the bottle. “ _ Please  _ don’t call me that. No, it’s not some perversion it’s—love. Not just lust, I don’t just. Lust, it’s love. I  _ love. _ ” His voice broke on that last word and it sounded raw, like he had just pulled the scab off an old wound and found it still hasn't healed under it, and for once Ezio had nothing to say. His first reaction to ease tension was always to try to diffuse it with something funny, a quippy change of subject. His gut wrenched and his throat pulled itself into knots because he wanted to  _ do  _ something but he didn’t know  _ what. _

 

He wanted to tell Leonardo how he could never doubt that Leonardo loved and loved deeply and it showed in everything he did, and he knew that no one that he could turn that singular focus on could be found undeserving in any way, because wherever Leonardo looked he saw miracles and when that focus turned on  _ you,  _ you felt a bit like a miracle, too. He wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter that he was—different in that way, because Ezio already knew that he was a bit weird since that morning he stumbled into the workshop with righteously angry guards hot on his heels. It didn’t matter when he found out that he was left handed but was still the most intelligent person he had ever met, it didn’t matter that he was a scatter brain and that his home was a complete disaster, or that he had some outright too modern opinions on things, his talk about  _ flying  _ and making a machine that could do that wasn’t too weird, that was just  _ Leonardo.  _ And so, he challenged Ezio’s belief on what was and wasn’t possible again. It was just a regular tuesday, wasn’t it? This wouldn’t have been as huge or felt as heavy and important as it did if it weren’t for the fact that it so clearly meant the world to Leonardo himself, that  _ he  _ clearly thought it mattered. If he had treated it the same way he treated all the other things that made him different, like it was a matter of course and ‘really, everyone should write their notes in code, how else were you supposed to keep things private?’ then Ezio bet that he wouldn't have cared. He would have added another mental tally to his list of “Reason why Leonardo is the best but also the weirdest” and left it at that, maybe laughed about it a bit, ribbed him, teased him repeatedly, expanded on his dirty jokes enough for Leonardo to be in on them, too, and not just be flustered because he wasn’t experienced with it but flustered because he  _ was  _ experienced and wouldn’t that be something?

 

He wanted to tell him all of this at once, but he knew neither how to find the words or in which order to start, so what the fuck did he do now? And fuck, he had taken too long to think of a response, because he looked up to see his friend, his  _ best  _ friend, his confidant, look like he was trying not to cry. He still had his hand wrapped around the wine bottle, but made no move to drink it, and his jaw was clenched tight, shoulders up high and tense and he was staring into the fire intensely enough that he really ought to look away so he wouldn’t be bothered by those  spots in his vision that he was sure to get, but he didn’t. So, maybe, after all, there was only one thing he  _ could _ do.

 

Because if all those horrible things that Ezio had heard about sodomites were in any way commonplace to hear anywhere else, then Leonardo was bound to have heard that too, and have enough of an opinion on it to reveal a little vulnerability in asking Ezio to, please, not call him that. If Ezio was tetchy enough to storm out of his home after his sister implied he was an unsympathetic whore, because he was tired of hearing it even while knowing it wasn’t true, then by God. How did Leonardo feel? Was the reason he pulled away from touches when completely sober and rarely, if ever, initiated any, because he thought that he was undeserving? Or that he risked coming off as predatory, lecherous, dangerous, like the people you were warned against? Was he terrified that simple overtures for friendships made by everyone else on God’s Earth would, when coming from him with the most genuine and friendly intentions, be mistaken for manipulation? Did that poison every touch he gave and received, did that weigh on his mind every time? He was so open, friendly with everyone, treating everyone as if they were all of the utmost importance. How much of his seclusion was voluntary, and how much was forcibly done by him to make the suffering a little easier? How much of the seclusion was a necessary retreat, to recover from the constant fretting, from the stress of being afraid to be seen only to be perceived as Monstrous?   

He took the bottle from Leonardo’s fingers, which instantly grew slack as he reached for it, only to put it down a bit further away from them both.

 

Leonardo blinked. “What are you—”

 

Ezio leaned forward. It wasn’t a very long distance to cover; Leonardo was sitting right next to him, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sad yeehaw. i pulled leo's feelings straight out of my own and ezio's bs ideas are based on bs i've heard and been told
> 
> fun fact it's very difficult to get me drunk. i have the world's worst super power: i can't get high, i can't get drunk, or well i can but it requires too much of the stuff that would get me there that i just don't bother. i'm nearly immune to painkillers, even morphine. i need more anesthesia than much larger patients than lil me. worlds lamest superpower. i'm "sober-man". this means that i don't know what it's like to get shit faced so you'll have to forgive my depiction of it here
> 
> i once drank three ciders (5%), two huge ass glasses of daiquiri (18%), 2 cups of some witch brew and a gin and tonic. i got mildly buzzed. it's just not worth it i'm not made of money


	10. Ciliegia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ENFJ’s (Ezio’s mbti) guide to sharing trauma:  
> 1\. Reference it off hand, casually  
> 2\. Casually say agh yeah haha that was kinda awful. Maybe I’ll talk about it someday idk  
> 3\. 10min later: share your trauma, but make it sound like it had less of an impact than it did. Think, however, of each and every detail in your head  
> 4\. Come to a frightening revelation of how the trauma has affected you and your life and spill it all out loud for the person you’re talking to, who doesn’t have the full picture because half of the stuff leading up to your revelation took place in your head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *swirls my white wine apple cider fresh strawberry drink in my IKEA wine glass* there is no sexy way to say butt. Butt? Childish. Behind? Too funny. Arse? Too british, not sexy at all. Derrière? No fucking way. Ass? Bad, but it’s the best we’ve got. 
> 
> Not gonna lie people this chapter deals with some heavy stuff in a not very elegant way.
> 
> SPOILERS: Warnings for homophobia, biphobia and internalised versions of both, as well as homo- and biphobia from a parent. Also, a flashback of two teenagers getting a bit hanky panky. All clothed, though, they get interrupted prematurely.

It was the easiest thing to lean over and gather Leonardo up in his arms. So simple that he couldn't quite figure out why he hadn’t just done it before. Oh, sure, he had enveloped him in a sort of half-hug, with arms slung across shoulders, he had literally been in his lap only hours before. There was that one memorable occasion where Leonardo put his hand across Ezio’s mouth, all while very much being in his personal space. 

 

On the day they “met”, no less! (not really, but still. The first meeting of any import) The audacity! Where did that ferociousness go, did it disappear when Leonardo began to care for him, to value their friendship? When he then gave a damn about what Ezio thought of him? Which version of Leonardo was true, and which wasn’t, which one was he going to see more of thereafter?

 

This wasn’t like either of those things. This was much, much better. Perhaps it was the sheer emotionality of the situation adding to it, but who would give a fuck about letting that matter, or let the hug’s impact mean less? Not Ezio, for sure. 

 

One hand snaked its way between Leonardo’s arm and side, to circle around his waist, while the other went around the shoulders to come up to cradle Leonardo’s head against the crook of his neck. Ezio tangled his fingers in that mussed up, gorgeous blonde mop of hair and tried and failed to not think about how right that felt, and how good it was pressed to his cheek. But only because he was so busy trying to maneuver their bodies so that they could stay like that comfortably for much longer  because he didn’t want to let go for Leonardo’s comfort, which meant that he had to pull Leonardo in to rest in between his knees. That was what he did first, but once it became clear that his friend didn’t mind the sudden manhandling (only first sounding confused, then relieved beyond compare with the way he sighed and his whole body just  _ shrank  _ and fit in Ezio’s hold perfectly, despite them being of a height and Leonardo only being a bit less broad and more slim) Ezio stretched out his legs and pulled Leonardo up and, with some wordless cooperation, arranged it so that Leonardo had his legs spread out on either side of Ezio’s hips and layed over his legs. If Ezio had only brought his own legs a bit closer together the other man would essentially have been in his lap. This… felt right. 

 

Close like this, Ezio’s senses were overcome with the smell of ink, paper, dust and now mute oil paint that always clung to his friend, but added to it was the wine they had shared and which had probably put them in this troublesome situation to begin with, as well as the scent of wood smoke from the hearth and thyme from their cooking ( _ theirs,  _ so much of Leonardo’s smell in that moment was  _ theirs _ , something they had  _ shared  _ and both carried with them as  _ theirs _ and how could he ever compare Cristina to Leonardo when their most amorous moments had never rivaled the sheer intimacy of this,  _ their  _ **this** ) and to that, the texture, the feel of the linen of their shirts, both of them really Leonardo’s (he had  _ shared _ ), mostly focusing on where Ezio clutched Leonardo’s side, drawing the shirt tight to form valleys and mountains in the fabric leading up to where his fingers were digging groves. The texture of Leonardo’s soft — much softer than his own — hair between his fingers, the pressure of Leonardo digging his forehead into Ezio’s shoulder. There was the sensation of their bodies pressed together so close that they might as well be one entity like that, with one will, one mind. Leonardo really was too thin, Ezio needed to remind him to eat more regularly. Maybe cooking with him would help that. He would just have to stay for longer, more often, or invite him out more. Or both. 

 

“You love,” Ezio told him, echoing Leonardo’s own words for lack of making sense of his thoughts. “I’ve never met someone who loves as much as you do, you know? You’re filled to the brim with it. I’m sorry I didn’t understand, because I still kind of don’t, but I think that I’m kind of used to you knocking my world upside down at this point.” He cleared his throat. He really wished Leonardo would say something, but for now it was up to him to try and be meaningful. What work, he shouldn’t ever have taken Leonardo’s prose for granted. “I don’t care what anyone else says about you, or how you are. Who gives a fuck about what the law or the Church says about that? I don’t fancy being a hypocrite, and I would be if i judged anyone based on the Book. I’m sorry about—everything, that makes you feel like you have to hide. My belief that you’re too good for this world definitely hasn’t changed. Fuck the rest; if anyone gives you shit for this, point me in their direction so I can cross that last sin off my list, alright?”

 

Then— oh. 

 

Oh. Leonardo was shaking. 

 

Not much, really, but enough to be worrying. 

 

Another point added to the list of sensations: wetness on the shirt and his shoulder where Leonardo had pressed his face close to fit in the crook of his neck. He had raised his arms too, now, to cling around Ezio’s upper body with all of his strength. It was almost painful, but no pain had ever felt so worth it as that did.

 

“You know I’m not that great with words, you’ve always been more of a wordsmith or what have you. Then again, you are an artist, so I suppose that makes sense. I think I’ve maxed out my capacity for emotional and sincere speeches for today, so anything I say from now on will just be nonsense to fill the silence. Do you want me to go on? You don’t have to say anything, you can just nod.”

 

There was some wet laughter then, muffled against his skin, rumbling through their chests. “I thought you did alright,” Leonardo said, because that overachiever could never remain silent, even when exhausted, drunk and incredibly emotional. “I regretted telling you as soon as the words came tumbling out. I don’t think they would have if not for—well. But now, I am happy I told you. If you want to talk, go ahead. I think I would like to listen. If you want to let go, too, that’s fine with me.”

 

That was the worst lie he had ever heard. “I’d rather not, actually,” he sniffed. 

 

“Well, then,” Leonardo chuckled. “Don’t let me stop you.”

 

“You’re gonna regret that soon enough! Anyway, now I have finally figured out the mystery of Leonardo Di Ser Piero, extremely handsome and exotic, incredibly intelligent, kind, genuine and generous, well spoken, talented, creative  _ shy  _ and shut in artist! I did always say that you could have any woman you liked, now I finally know that you just don’t like them back. A huge relief, really. Except for how foolish that makes me feel.  _ Fuck.  _ I have a huge bone to pick with my father, I feel. Except of course I won’t, I don’t ever want to talk anything even vaguely alluding to sex with him ever again. It traumatised me.” He had never seen a look of such visceral disgust directed at him before, first at the situation he had walked in on and  _ then _ to see his son being one of the two involved. His father had never hit him, but what he said then had felt worse, and bruises did fade. His words clearly hadn’t. Ezio grinned. “Also, I have so many questions now. No, it’s fine, you don’t have to get up,” he told Leonardo when he felt his friend begin to pull back.

 

“I just need to be able to breathe as well,” his friend sniffed. His eyes were puffy and still glistening, the light of the fire caught ever so much more clearly in that haze of tears than it had been before. They, and his nose, were red as well, swollen and likely uncomfortable. Ezio barely even felt the stain on his shoulder, but it felt like a badge of honour more than anything. He had been able to comfort a friend in need (his best friend, in fact) and he had been trusted. It was unlikely and not something he would ever say aloud, but in that moment he felt as if Leonardo had done something far greater for him than vice versa. It was… nice, to not just be Ezio, known maker of troubles, for once. 

 

As previously stated, that was  _ not  _ something he would ever say aloud. He had a very specific image to maintain.

 

“Hold on, let’s just shuffle a bit then,” he said, then helped Leonardo rearrange his legs so that they were both draped over Ezio’s right leg and they were pressed front to side rather than front to front. It let Leonardo slouch some more and he could still lean his head on Ezio’s shoulder, which he wasted no time doing. Their arms were wound around boths’ middle now, interlocked, again like One. 

 

“There,” Leonardo said, voice calm, low. He nuzzled down deeper into Ezio’s collarbone and closed his eyes and the look of it all caused Ezio’s heart to skip a beat and for goose flesh to rise along his forearms as he thought a shiver from running through his whole body. “What was it that you wanted to ask?”

 

“First I just want to clarify that when you said you just paint the girls at the brothel… that was the truth?”

 

Leonardo snorted. “Yes, Ezio. Truth.”

 

“Do any of them… know?”

 

“I don’t exactly know… I suspect that Paola knows, but she has never confirmed it. Some others suspect it. But Aurelia does know, as does Isabela.”

 

Ezio laughed. “Aurelia?! Was it after you—”

 

“Ran out of the room like the hounds of hell were hot on my heels? However did you figure that one out,” he smiled. Ezio didn’t see it, but he felt Leonardo’s mouth stretch against his skin and made an educated guess. 

 

“Hah. And… Isabela? Isn’t she the one girl who’s more of a visual entertainer than the classical kind? Acrobatics, dances, that sort of thing.”

 

“I have a soft spot for Isabela. She’s my favourite to draw because of the reasons you just listed. She can contort in the most imaginative of ways, it’s wonderful practice for me. We’ve become friends, somewhat. And the rest was said in confidence between the two of us and shall remain confident,” he said.

 

“And you have? Always known?”

 

“I believe so. I had crushes on other boys and was quite uninterested in what the girls were up to. Mother had a bit of a shock, but very calmly explained that I shouldn’t share those sorts of thoughts with anyone else, because even if they were alright to have, they were very dangerous if spoken aloud, because people can be very angry and evil when confronted with things they don’t understand.”

 

“Very… forwarding thinking of her.”

 

“Remember my bastardly status? She carried a child out of wedlock, she’s well used to people being mean to her for no reason other than that they disagree with what is clearly none of their business. Lovely as she is though, she was all out of advice concerning hrm, more private parts of my. Situation.”

 

Ezio snorted. “I can  _ imagine _ . How did you learn how… well, how?”

 

“Friendly male prostitutes and boys my age who were more ‘brave and devil may care’ than I’ll ever be. You know Eduardo, at the brothel? He,” he laughed, “he showed me how penetration works on… day three in Firenze, I think? Good times.”

 

He choked on air. “ _ Eduardo?!  _ I thought he was for… lonely and unconservative widows or the like! He’s—you and  _ him?! _ He’s… wonky looking!”

 

His friend tutted and rolled his eyes. “We can’t all be _Ezio_ _Auditore_ , Ezio. And it’s not exactly as easy for me to find partners as it is for you! I don’t get to be picky.”

 

“It’s not bloody fair,” Ezio muttered. “You’re too handsome. You deserve better than… fucking Eduardo of the clefty chin. His arse is jealous of the butt on his face.”

 

“Oh,  _ stop. _ ”

 

“I’m right! His chin looks like ass cheeks!”

 

“You most definitely are not right.”

 

“Then why are you smiling?”

 

Ezio felt Leonardo’s smile grow wider. “I’m not!”

 

“We could do this all day, because I’m  _ right _ but luckily for you, I still have questions. How do you do it?”

 

“Do ‘what’?”

 

“Well… you know.”

 

“I’ve never known you to be coy, dear Ezio.”

 

Ezio hugged him tighter in response, still searching for the words and barely keeping himself from letting Leonardo go so that he could mime his thoughts with his hands. “How do you… have. Sex? With a man. How do you, do? That? How. Is my question.”

 

“Didn’t you say you had done it with another boy yourself…?” Leonardo wondered. Then, quick as a viper, threw his head up and back so that he could stare with all of his combined judgement at the line of questioning and narrowed eyes bewilderment at what he has just remembered. “I can’t believe I forgot! Never mind your questions, tell me more about that!”

 

He would definitely rather  _ not  _ do that. “What’s there to say?”

 

“How could you not known about same sex attraction when you yourself experienced it at least once?! How far did you go, what led up to it, what made you—ack! Tell me everything, right from the start.”

 

He huffed. “Seriously?”

 

“Deadly so!”

 

“A question for a question, then?”

 

“Stop stalling, don’t think I don’t know when you’re doing it.”

 

“I barely remember how it started,” he said honestly. “And there was never much thought put into the whole choice or thing, or. Yeah. I was at a party with my father and older brother for something business related, I don’t remember. I was what? Fifteen? I don’t know.” He was at a party held by a business acquaintance, celebrating a deal the details of which he honestly didn’t remember, but he remembered that the acquaintance was named Marco and that he was an unpleasant looking man with a leer that could make flowers wither and die at the sight of it.  He was fifteen years and two months old and tall for his age, having had a recent growth spurt that suited him well, as he had made sure to gain the muscle for it so as to not look gangly. It worked, he was often mistaken for being years older and was considered to be mature and handsome, which pleased him a great deal. What he had in pubescent maturity though, he sorely lacked in emotional maturity, with a tendency to do as he pleased and damn whatever happened because of it that was even stronger than his current tendency for it. 

 

“I don’t know what I was doing, really. Nothing important, anyway. Federico and my father were off somewhere talking to someone, I don’t know.” He had been bored, without even Federico to entertain him, as both he and his father were busy discussing business with other partners present, both so that Federico, the perfect heir, could be shown off and introduced to people, as well as for him to learn a thing or two. Ezio was mostly just decoration, a way for his father to brag that not only did he have one very good and clever son, he also had a second one — that was quite the lady killer! — just in case something happened to the first. 

Wouldn’t you like to consider introducing him to your daughters and give us her insanely high dowry, there’s a good fellow. Imagine what pretty grandchildren you’ll have, they’ll make lovely portraits in the salon to prettily and balefully stare at future generations. 

 

“Then this other man, a year or two older than me, locks eyes with me from across the room. I can’t remember his name, but I remember thinking ‘oh shit. He’s too damn handsome’.” His name was Antonio, because of course it was, it was pompous and handsome and it suited him all too well. His hair was a shade lighter than Ezio’s and his eyes a pretty light brown and skin more sun kissed than a nobleman’s should be. He was dressed humbly, but well fitted, so that his athletic figure was clear as day even under multiple layers. His cheekbones were high, nose long and straight and his jaw angular and perfectly proportional, and his chin was completely devoid of buttcheeks. 

 

“And he smiled and for the first time — ever, I think, I felt the same way I imagine most of the women I’ve seduced felt when I looked at them. He said nothing, he couldn’t because we were too far apart. But I saw that look and could instantly see what it was meant to say.” 

 

‘ _ I would like to tear every shred of clothing from you and then feel your body from head to toe and worship you religiously in the most unchristian way possible. Tonight, I will take you apart beneath my hands, and my mouth, piece by piece. I will make you cry, and you’ll thank me for it. You’ll wonder how you could ever settle for less before this, and wonder how you could ever live without this now, going forward’. Was what that look said. It wasn’t what he said and not what he would say, but it couldn’t be clearer, especially not with Ezio’s vivid imagination.  _

 

“It really was a dirty look, in the most literal way. He looked me up and down just, brazenly. Then he turned away and I followed. I couldn’t take my eyes off the back of his head and it was like I was pulled forward, like he was pulling me forward. Then he pulled me into a closet in some hallway far off from everyone else and there was barely enough time for introductions and a quick clarification that we were both definitely down to  _ go down _ before he slammed me up against the wall and. Oh, I hate that word because and don’t ever want it applied to me, but there’s nothing better suited, I don’t think; he ravished me. Really. No hesitation, no shy, chaste kisses to start off with like I always do with girls, just to soften them up. No, no; he slammed me up against a wall and put his tongue in my mouth like he would  _ die _ if he didn’t! I ravished back, though! I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

 

_ They said nothing as they walked through the hallways, Ezio just a step behind, with this stranger looking back ever so often to make sure that he was still there, grinning brightly, roguishly each time he did so, Ezio answering in kind. He wasn’t about to be out-charmed by this other boy just because he had taken the lead. If he had any idea of what they were about to do, then he could most assuredly say that it would take Two, no matter who did the pulling or who was pulled. They were equals, after all, even if this would be the first time Ezio had a go at what should be, really, more familiar to him than a woman, considering the bits involved. There was a kindred spirit to be found in this boy, and if handling  him was anything like handling himself, Ezio would have it down to an art form in no time at all.  _

 

_ Then, quick as a lightning bolt, the other boy turned and took Ezio’s wrist in his strong grip, with his long fingers wrapped around his pulse, said, “In here,” in a husky, oh so alluring voice to go with the face, and pushed open a door shortly before pushing Ezio inside and pulling the door closed behind them. The light inside was muted; coming, as it did, from only the one, small window at the top of the wall, near the ceiling.  It was a closet, a cupboard really, filled with various necessary things that everyone had but never displayed. Ezio didn’t put much thought into that though, choosing instead to focus on how absolutely delicious his newest partner looked in the gloom, with the shadows playing and showing off his too damn symmetrical face.  _

 

_ “I’m Antonio, I don’t think we’ve met before. I would remember a face like yours.” Close like this, Ezio noticed how tall Antonio was, as he only reached about up to his nose, so that they had to lean down and up respectively in order to get a good look at each other. Something they were, obviously, quite eager to do.  _

 

_ “Antonio? Pleasure. I’m Ezio. I believe you’re right, I  _ would _ remember a face like yours. It’s almost as good as mine.” _

 

_ Antonio laughed — chuckled really, all low and down in his throat. (He had to have been playing that up to be seductive. It was working.) His teeth looked sharp. “Clever mouth. Put it to use before?” _

 

_ “Plenty of times.  Only ever on girls before, though.” _

 

_ “That so? First time with a man, then? I couldn’t tell, you didn’t hesitate at all.” _

 

_ “I’m a fast learner.” _

 

_ “I bet. You won’t mind me taking the lead then, will you?” _

 

_ “I haven’t minded so far. Show me what you can do—I’ll do my best to try not to outshine you.” _

 

_ Antonio laughed again, then grinned, almost viciously, before grabbing Ezio’s collar and slamming him up against the wall. Something, neither of them had any idea what, fell over, but neither of them cared much anyway. Ezio was preoccupied with Antonio locking their mouths together and running his tongue against Ezio’s mouth and then pressing, trying to get him to open and let him inside. He happily complied with nary a thought and Antonio wasted no time to lick his way in, then press against Ezio’s own tongue. He tasted that, but never stayed still for long, roving around fast and hard enough to make Ezio feel dizzy. He even pulled back to take his lip between his teeth — yeah, oh yeah they were sharp — and tugged at it, before sucking his way back inside again. Ezio moaned into Antonio’s mouth, only opening himself up further in the process.  In the meanwhile, as if that wasn’t enough on it’s own, Antonio slid his hands down Ezio’s chest and back, behind him, to grope at his ass and pull their hips flush together. He shoved a knee between Ezio’s legs; forcing him to spread them, and so bringing Ezio down further. Antonio really was bent over him know, looming in a way that should have been uncomfortable. Only, Ezio’s eyes were closed, so he wasn’t bothered at all. Quite the opposite.  _

 

_ Not about to be upstaged, he rolled his hips firmly down and up against Antonio and felt satisfaction bloom in his chest at the gasp that tore its way from the other boy’s throat. He brought his hand down and palmed Antonio through his trousers, feeling the hardness beginning to stir there, as Antonio pressed his knee firmly into Ezio’s own groin, where he, too, was reacting, all the blood shooting down to one place so fast that he got dizzy. Antonio brought his hands up from Ezio’s ass, instead beginning to undo the buttons to his doublet. Which was such an excellent idea that Ezio had to do the same to him. It took a lot of fumbling and bitten-down curses,  struggling as they were with the buttons while their eyes were closed, their hips were rolling, almost rutting with desperation, and they were still kissing in the least graceful way possible, interrupted as whatever good moves they had were by moans, curses and pleads — to each other, to themselves, to God.  _

 

“That’s it, really, we tongue-kissed, did some mutual groping and were halfway done with unbuttoning each other’s doublets before we were interrupted. We were too busy getting busy that we didn’t hear the steps outside before the door was thrown open. My father had noticed me leaving right as he wanted to introduce me to someone and followed me to see where I was going. Then he caught us—uh, in the act. The beginning of the act. The actions leading up to certain other, even more nefarious acts. That. There was yelling and some threatening.” That, he didn't much remember. He remember what the words felt like, but not what was said, not all of it. The yelling wasn’t actually yelling, as that would have attracted all sorts of unwanted attention from the other guests, but it was so angry, so fraught with tension and promise of more hurt to come that it had felt loud, like how an explosion far off didn’t actually sound like much, but you could still feel it shake your very bones and clatter your teeth without your say-so. 

 

He had been larger than he usually was, towering, when he actually wasn’t. Cruel, where he was otherwise kind and understanding. In the moment, not much was said, but he remembered their conversation once back at home all too well. He had been so  _ tired _ then, and somehow that made Ezio feel even worse. At the party, he had been vicious and Ezio clearly remembered one word: selfish. Selfish. He had been selfish. 

 

Later, Giovanni was confused. Struggling to understand. Ezio liked women well enough and really, he was the same when he was his age, he understood, Ezio was even a tad worse just because his looks gave him that much of an advantage over his competition that it really didn't help that he could be charming as well. He liked women, so why was he doing  _ that? _ How selfish, he already had it all, now he had to go and be a criminal too just for the thrill? How selfish, that he would do it at a party at which they were _ guests _ , so that he wasn’t only risking his own reputation (or his family’s! How could he not consider the  _ family? _ The  _ business _ ? It was all at risk because of his actions!) but the reputation of their hosts. And to run around with a minor nobleman’s son—really! Not even a servant that they could more easily control, but another Player who might have been trying to get dirt on their competition by tricking Ezio into such illegal actions! Such moral degradation! 

 

He had sighed, then, weary beyond his years, then blamed himself for not having taught Ezio more about it and why he should avoid it. He taught him what Ezio had then parroted to Leonardo, that he had firmly believed by that point, even if he really didn’t. It wasn't natural for a boy like Ezio to run around with other boys; men couldn’t love other men, and since he liked women then this was really just selfish experimentation, or worse, some defect of sorts. 

 

“Then, once we were back home, the stuff I told you earlier. That he made me believe. After that he also—encouraged my sleeping around, more. Said it was perfectly natural, that I ought to get my fill of it before marrying and that I was young, it was practically expected. He encouraged me to do it… a lot, actually, now that I think about it. Mother was always disapproving, right from the start of it, but he never took her side until the recent. Situation. Where I barged through your door, if you remember. I think he… thought it was better that I sully myself that way, than the way I did with—that boy. Better I  _ not _ know the consequences of sleeping around with girls who don’t know how much it will ruin their lives, or I might sleep around with other sons of powerful men that would never have to deal with any sort of consequence should they be caught with a girl but a boy would ruin the entire family in worse ways so better to sacrifice a few daughters for the sake of the heirs and oh  _ fuck! _ ” 

 

He keeled over, bent nearly in half over Leonardo, which forced the other man to lie almost horizontally so as to not get smushed. Not that Ezio noticed, as he was far too occupied connecting the dots between almost five years of manipulation. That  _ he  _ had then been blamed for! His dad had made  _ him  _ feel bad because he’d been a good son and fucking listened!

 

“ _ Shit! _ ” he cried. “ **Fucking** _ shit _ ! I’m such a fucking  _ idiot! _ ” He never even questioned any of that  _ bullshit  _ and innocent people got hurt for it, all because of his blind loyalty that he had barely even  _ known  _ was loyalty, because his dad had twisted it over in his head so much oh shit fucking  _ fuck  _ he could never go home how the hell was he supposed to look him in the  _ eye _ now that he  _ knew _ —

 

“Darl—Ezio, listen to me for a second,” Leonardo said, calm as anything, despite the maelstrom of emotion (guilt, shame, anger, fear, the gang’s all here) currently running through his veins too quickly to even begin to get a proper grasp of. “Sit up properly, I need you to look me in the eye.” He gently coaxed Ezio back to his sitting position, then angled himself so that they were face to face, lifting a hand to cup his cheek and brush moisture away with his thumb. Ezio didn’t think he was crying, he didn’t feel like it, he was too warm and angry for that, not stuffy and cold the way he got if he began crying. That very rarely happened, though, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a good cry. But his eyes were wet, glistening actually, and some of this wetness leaked out, just a bit. It wasn’t a tear, if you asked him just. Leakage. Or a tear like the tears that were forced from your eyes during strong wind, or unbearable cold, or when you got something in your eye. That sort of tear. But not he crying kind, definitely not.

 

“There’s clearly a lot of blame to be doled out, here. I don’t know the full story, I don’t think, but I can safely say that this blame is not to be squared on you. As an adult, you have to take responsibility for your actions and grow from it. You’ve tried your damndest to do the latter without barely even thinking about it; you corrected the worst of your behavior the minute its harmful effects were pointed out to you. Your father has done neither of those things, which means that I can with utmost certainty say that out of the two of you, you are, at least in this regard, the most mature. A man, to be proud of to have as a son. You father, however, should be ashamed. Not at you, but at himself. You have, in hardly any time at all, done what he has not managed to do for years, with even more years of experience to help him. You’ll find your redemption in your continued growth. Don’t concern yourself with his. If he doesn’t even try to seek it, then it’s not your job to absolve him and take it unto yourself. You are a good man, Ezio. With time, you’ll be a great one.”

 

He had been lying before: those were now very manly tears streaming down his face with no sign of ever stopping. And he was stuffy now, to make things worse. His nose was clogged, and he feared he might even leak some snot any minute now. It was fair, at least; Leonardo had cried just a while earlier. He wouldn’t begrudge, or judge, Ezio for this. 

 

Gently, as gently as one could ever be, or do something, anything at all, Leonardo pressed a kiss against his cheek. Never about to be outdone, and at that point, just not giving a damn about inhibitions of any kind and both heavy and light with all the different kinds of revelations — he was actually very dizzy at this point, and really ought to go to sleep, brains could be exhausted from too much thinking and his very much was — Ezio leaned forward just as Leonardo had leaned back. 

 

It had been easy to just say “fuck it” and hug Leonardo. It was, perhaps, even easier to say “fuck it”, and kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO YOU THOUGHT I WAS PLAYING WITH YOU WITH HOW THE LAST CLIFFHANGER TURNED OUT! I WAS, BUT NOT FOR LONG!!!!!! WE’RE 50k WORDS IN I’M EXHAUSTED AND HAVE ALREADY DROPPED ONE PLANNED STORYLINE IN MY DRAFTS AND MOVED THE “IM GAY” UP EARLIER THANKS TO IT. THIS WILL BE OVER 100K AS IT IS, I’M FUCKING KNACKERED LMAO. THEY KISSED. THEY FINALLY KISSED! NO ONE IS HAPPIER ABOUT IT THAN I AM OH MY GOD
> 
> i am working my Ass off and just got into uni so writing time hasn't been as abundant as i would have liked. but, i am writing a bit. not just maybe enough to guarantee a chapter per week


	11. Melograno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> filler? kinda? hm. 
> 
> insert [you may slap it. once_meme.jpg] but with leo saying "you may call me leo. Once." bc he too sbeepy. sleeby. zzz idk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to split this chapter into two bc it grew too long. these two WON'T. SHUT. UP. and i love writing banter too much to cut anything. this is mostly just a breather after the whirlwind of emotions from the last installment. 
> 
> a week late! because my brother got married last weekend! to a doctor! in a castle! and i caught the bouquet! so if i stop posting all together it's bc i find the love of my wife (*i meant to write life but freud exists in my keyboard against my will it appears) and have eloped with her! 
> 
> disclaimer: people with cleft-chins are cool and groovy and their je ne sais quoi (je sais quoi c'est le fkn chin) should be celebrated and not grossly insulted by ezio like they are here. he is a bad boy not in a cool way but in the way a dog eats your pillows is a bad boy. you love him. but he should not eat the pillows bc that's bad. ezio's opinion on Eduardo With The Chin is in no way representative of my own feelings of ppl with clefts in their chin so i'm sorry in advance. his issues with "wha i'm not jealous why would i be JeAlOuS?!" will be adressed later on in this story as the Relationship developes

Unlike the kiss he had shared with Antonio, the second kiss Ezio shared with a man, ever, was quite chaste. Just a press of lips against lips that didn’t last long. After just three seconds, they both leaned back at the same time, leaning their foreheads against each other’s with closed eyes.

 

“Leonardo… thank you,” he said, voice most resolutely  _ not  _ cracking midway though. 

 

“As always, I’m happy to help,” Leonardo replied. 

 

“Sorry to change the subject,” he wasn’t, not really, he had had enough of revelations of any kind. Any cheeky bastard who would try to read to him from the Bible’s revelations would be executed without a trial, “but I am… so damn tired.”

 

Leonardo chuckled, worn out. “That makes two of us. Bed, then?”

 

Ezio groaned. “ _ Please _ .” 

 

It felt weird to separate, but it was something of a requirement if they were to be able to go up the stairs. They could get all tangled again once on the bed. It wasn’t very late at all, only a bit after six, but it felt like they had been awake for days and days. They stumbled more than once on their way up but every time, without fail, the other was there as support. 

 

They didn’t have much clothing to take off, so they settled for only removing their stiff trousers and leaving their underthings and shirts on. Tumbling into bed was a simple decision after that. It felt softer than his own bed, even though it definitely wasn’t. He was in Heaven on Earth, Ezio thought, together with someone who knew the worst of him and still saw something in him that made him good. 

 

He noticed, however, from his terribly comfortable spot on the bed, that Leonardo was hesitating. 

 

“Come on, Leo, you’re as tired as I am. We’re not having the bed conversation again, either I sleep on the floor or neither of us do.”

 

Leonardo wrung his hands. “It’s still Leonardo. And that’s not it.” He looked as if he would say more, but stopped. 

 

“Go on,” Ezio said. 

 

“I’m just shocked that you want to sleep in the same bed as me knowing—what I am. I didn’t want us to share the bed first out of politeness of course, but mostly because I didn’t want you to think I was trying to take advantage of you. I’ve never slept besides anyone who knows that wasn’t also… a partner, of the temporary sort.”

 

“I know that you are the sweetest man alive and would never do anything to me without asking, even if I consented ten times before, so the risk factor is low. And I might be—like you, remember? I think.”

 

Leonardo frowned, but he did climb into bed before he asked, “You think?”

 

“Liking both men and women; it’s possible? I’m not wrong, in any way? I’ve been convincing myself that it was a mistake and I couldn’t actually feel it, so I’ve suppressed any attraction to men I’ve had until now. I’ve just been… convincing myself that it was healthy objective appreciation, or comparing and judging the competition. It’s going to be hard to break that habit, I think.”

 

“I’m here if you need advice,” Leonardo said. They weren’t touching, but they almost were; facing each other on their sides on the bed, hands only a finger span away from each other. 

 

Ezio reached out and breached that small divide, wrapping his fingers around Leonardo’s. “And if you doubt that you’re the best man who ever lived, or need reassurance that it’s not wrong to touch your friends to show that you like them without it being sexual just because of who you are, I’m your man.” 

 

His friends’s eyes crinkled around the corners. “Duly noted. You’re not alone, I need to say, before I forget.”

 

“In what way?”

 

“I have met others, like you, one of whom is a friend of mine, who enjoy men and women both. Men who enjoy men and women, and women who enjoy men and women.”

 

Ezio whined. “God damn it, I’m too tired to rewrite my world view any more. Women can be with women too?! Shit, why do they even bother with us at all,” he grumbled into the mattress. “Let’s talk about it some more once we’ve slept, but not before.”

 

“Alright. Sleep well then, Ezio.”

 

“You too—and thanks for telling me. I haven’t taken it in yet, really, but it’s… good to confirm that I’m not  _ wrong _ . I thought I was defect in some way.”

 

“There is not a defect thing about you,” Leonardo said. “Good night.”

 

“Good night,” Ezio said. “… Leo.”

 

“Damn you.”

 

-

 

Going to bed early had the unfortunate side effecting of waking up early. A few hours past midnight, Ezio had already gotten so much sleep that if he slept any longer, he would begin to hibernate. He had also slept so much that waking up was an incredibly slow process and that he almost felt more tired when he had gone to sleep. Or, no, rather—he woke up feeling sleepy. Before bed, he had been mentally exhausted. Now his head was experiencing the soreness his limbs often felt after strenuous use the day before. 

 

Sometime in the night (it was still night, technically, but sometime during their sleep in any case) someone, no idea who, had breached the already short distance between them. Ezio, having fallen asleep on his side, was now more on his stomach than side. And more on Leonardo than on his own stomach, really. He was using Leonardo’s chest for a pillow, which shouldn’t be so comfortable considering how flat it was. Their legs were tangled together and Ezio had his left arm firmly tucked around Leonardo’s waist. Leonardo was, in turn, holding him to his chest with an arm slung over his shoulder. The sheets were a mess and covered little, likely because of the ridiculous amount of body heat the two of them produced. Ezio’s fringe was even stuck flat to his forehead with sweat, but he still couldn’t find it in himself to be uncomfortable. 

 

There was also a wet spot on Leonardo’s shirt were Ezio’s open, not lightly snoring mouth was, that definitely wasn’t drool because that would imply that Ezio had drooled, which he hadn’t. 

 

What was uncomfortable was the sand in his eyes that he really wanted to run away, but he didn’t want to let go of his friend, and his other arm was underneath him, and more asleep than he was. He was, at that point, awake, even if he was still slow and quite reluctant about the whole thing. 

 

“Mwuh,” he said as his first word of the day. It was a pretty neat summary of his whole situation, he thought. 

 

It felt as if his throat had knotted itself together, dried out. He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the feeling, then smacked his chapped lips. It barely help, but ‘barely’ meant that at least it had done something. 

 

“Leonardo?” he tried to say, but it came out as more of a garbled mess. He cleared his throat for the second time and tried again, this time more successful. His friend didn’t wake up, but he did make a curious sort of sound in his sleep. 

 

“Come on,” he whined, “if I have to be awake and bored then so do you.”

 

Leonardo made some more noises in his sleep, but continued on not waking up. He must have been even more exhausted than Ezio had been. That wasn’t so far fetched — he had cried a  _ lot  _ and that was not an easy thing to do. It was one of the most exhausting things a person could do, which was why he preferred to avoid doing it himself. 

 

Thinking of their capital C Conversation the evening before, Ezio hugged Leonardo just a little tighter, earning another unintelligible sleep noise from the man. It occurred then to Ezio, that he was apparently not too tired to have his usual morning reaction. He would be nineteen soon, it wasn’t at all odd for his body to say  _ hello there, warm body I’m not related to who is currently in my immediate vicinity, lovely to meet you, fuck me, maybe?  _ But it was inconvenient and uncomfortable, since it wasn’t like he was in a position to  _ do  _ something about it. 

 

It was then that he recalled the utterly chaste and innocent and yet also somehow all but innocent kiss that he had given Leonardo the night before. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic thing, a kiss. It was something shared between family members and close friends (even if that wasn’t something really done on the  _ mouth _ ). Ezio’s thoughts, while doing so, couldn’t have been further from his usual first kisses with someone. Usually, they made him feel triumphant, even smug, or turned on, or both. With Leonardo, his thoughts and motivations behind it had solely been respect, love and gratitude; neither of which had to be romantic. 

 

Yes, best to forget it. Even if he could now openly admit to himself that yeah, he was absolutely completely and definitely incredibly fucking attracted to Leonardo. It was difficult not to be, for the reasons he had told Leonardo earlier, multiple times. 

 

Handsome, charismatic, gentle, beautiful, generous, sympathetic, fiendishly intelligent, witty, mysterious, skilled in all sorts of ways, perceptive, fashionable; he might as well be saying “I am bloody  irresistible” every time he walked into a room, because  _ no one could disagree with him.  _ It would save everyone a lot of time, too, no more hesitance around thinking it for yourself, you’d hear him say it and go well, I can’t dispute that, now can I. Now will you come over here and fuck me, good sir, or do I have to come to you?

 

It would not be a wise decision to initiate a sexual relationship with him, though. First off, he clearly needed a friend, or more involved lover, and Ezio could only be one of those things to him. He needed someone to know the full extent of who he was and accept him for it  _ without  _ treating him radically different. Trying to jump his bones would be considered as such. Secondly, fucking your friend is more trouble than it’s worth. It had the potential to be extremely awkward; what if you didn’t like the sex? What if you found someone else you would rather have casual sex with? What if you developed feelings for each other and risked ruining the friendship? After all, that could lead to a long and happy life together. Or you could break up and probably have great difficult being just platonic friends again. No, Ezio wanted to have Leonardo in his life for the rest of it, if he could. Better not risk it. 

 

That didn’t solve his hard-on, but at least it had wilted somewhat. Though, it was still awkward, because Ezio finally registered that the pressure on his cock was Leonardo’s leg, which he had wrapped his own legs around. Very strange move, there, asleep-Ezio. He then hoped that Leonardo might stay asleep for a while longer, at least just until his stiffy wilted completely. 

 

Leonardo moved, unknowingly pressing his leg harder against Ezio’s hard-on, causing him to muffle a groan against Leonardo’s chest. His cock was back to full attention. Desperate little bastard. 

 

“Down, boy,” he grumbled. It did nothing. He had never been very good at not doing what he wanted, but anyone could do anything, he thought, if they just did their damndest. You couldn’t change what you thought or felt; action was where it counted. His current action of willing himself to lay very, very still and try to ignore his mini-me wasn’t very huge in the great scheme of things, but the fact that Leonardo had decided that he was the greatest bed cover in the world meant that he couldn’t do much else.  

 

He wasn’t good at not doing what he wanted. Looking up at Leonardo’s sleeping face from a deeply unflattering angle, he thought that he would very much like to kiss him again. And again, after that. Maybe even after that, too. 

 

He needed to go out with his other friends sometime soon. He had been neglecting them and they hadn’t let him forget it, but he just hadn’t managed to feel guilty about it at all. He preferred hanging over Leonardo’s shoulder in silence over their usual drinking and whoring sprees — though that might be exactly what he needed. Some semblance of normality restored, so that he could fall back into the practice of being Ezio Auditore again. Let his family see that he hadn’t changed, let his friends see that he hadn’t forgotten them. Keep up appearances — and not let any of them see how much better he was at being only Ezio than he had ever been at being their favoured version. Anyone would say that it was Leonardo who had changed him, made him more mellow; but he wasn’t too sure. His skin fit him better than it ever had. 

 

He should be a bit more uncomfortable again, remind himself of what people generally cared to see him as. Too much time around Leonardo and it ought to go even worse than it had with Cristina, and that wouldn’t do at all. Losing the potential of  _ real  _ had hurt too much, how agonising would it be to lose something that was, actually, real? Too much to risk finding out. 

 

Oh, look, his cock had calmed down. All it took was a minor existential crisis. 

 

Enough was enough, he decided. Leonardo had slept peacefully for far too long. It was a dirty move, what he was about to do, but he had tried to play nice to no avail. If talking and stiffys weren’t enough to wake him up, drastic measures were needed.

 

He pinched him in the side. Leonardo jolted, but didn’t wake up. Ezio was beginning to suspect that he was faking sleep.

 

“Wake up, Leo, you lazy bastard,” he said firmly, with another pinch, this time using his nails. 

 

“What’s my mother got to do with this,” was the sleep-addled reply. Usually crisp and high pitched with emotion, Leonardo’s voice was a baritone to rival all baritones, hoarse and groggy too, while fresh from sleep.

 

“She should’ve raised a better son than ones that pretends to be asleep when he isn’t—especially when clinging to someone like a leech. Did you do this to Eudardo Buttchin too, or was it him you learned it from?”

 

The body underneath him stiffened at the reminder of their conversation the night before, but he relaxed an instant later. Instinctive reaction, probably, he was almost definitely used to being on his guard against the wrong people knowing. It would take a lot to get him to relax, if he ever did. Lucky Ezio had decided to take up being “patient” for a chance.

“I didn’t stay to find out,” Leonardo replied drily. “I could only pretend to be sketching Isabela for so long before another customer would need her. She’d keep watch in case some other guest came too close. Wouldn’t do for me to be seen by a deacon with another man.”

 

“I was gonna say that it wouldn’t do for the deacon to be seen anywhere close to that sinful den of iniquity and lust, or whatever they call it.”

 

“He was there to pray for their souls, you see. Right after breaking his own vows, of course, it wouldn’t do to do it before or he’d have to do it again right after. Terrible time management.”

 

Ezio snorted. Leonardo jumped at how the air tickled his skin through his thin shirt. 

 

“Hey, Leo,” he asked, looking up at Leonardo’s non-buttlike chin, even though Leonardo was at too awkward an angle to look back at him. 

 

The nickname only earned itself a sigh. Either he was wearing him down, or Leonardo was just too tired to care. “Yes?”

 

“How long have you been awake for?”

 

A beat of silence. “Long enough to appreciate the magnanimous effort of you killing your — morning glory just by thinking very hard.”

Ezio groaned. “Right, sorry I asked.” He was too tired to feel very embarrassed, he would deal with that later. Probably when next he tried to go to sleep, so that he would lie awake in agony over it. “But glad that you recognised the effort.”

 

“You’re ever so welcome.”

 

“Hmm. Is it too early for more questions? I didn’t get so far last night.”

 

“Yes. Yes, it is absolutely too early.”

 

“Well, when isn’t it, then?”

 

“After the loo and breakfast is finished.”

 

“What’s for breakfast?” Ezio wondered. “Sorry to sound like a freeloader, but it’s too early to buy anything, or I would have payed.”

 

“I have some rye bread, I think. Maybe some cheese, I can’t be sure. We’ll figure something out… how early is it, exactly?”

 

“I don’t know, but the sun isn’t even up yet.”

 

Leonardo thumped his head down on the mattress with a groan. “This is going to be a nightmare for my regular sleep schedule,” he bemoaned. 

 

“You have a  _ regular  _ sleep schedule?” Ezio asked, agog. The only regular thing he knew about Leonardo’s sleep schedule was that it was irregular —  and regularly mad. 

 

“I try,” Leonardo confessed. “I’m just not very good at it.”

 

“Better than I expected from you, but you should know that my expectations for you were low. Still, no time to waste. Would you consider letting me go, now?”

 

Leonardo sighed again, not actually sounding annoyed, and let his arms fall limpy to his sides. It took Ezio a second to remember that he ought to let go, as well. It took two to cuddle, after all. 

 

“Maybe I’ll stop by more often,” he joked, sitting up. He winced as something popped in his back. Damn it. He was still young, his back shouldn’t be allowed to do that. He didn’t dare look in a mirror to see the state his hair was in, but he could feel that it was… taller, than it usually was. “Cuddling does great things to your sleep in general. Main factor being that you actually sleep. Second best being that you sleep a sufficient amount of hours. Congratulations on that one, it’s something that I don’t always get even when I try. Maybe I’ll come by every other day or so and we’ll both get a decent night's sleep.”

 

Leonardo laughed, propping himself up on his hands. “I should like to see you explain that to your family,” he said. 

 

Ezio grinned back, “Just picture it: ‘Mother, father, judgemental sister, favourite brother and Federico, I have an announcement. I’m moving in with my friend Leonardo, you know, mother, the one you introduced me to? Thanks for that, I made this decision hours after finding out that he’s a sinner and a criminal all in one. What crime? Laying with men. No, I don’t see why you should be suspicious of him for that. I mean, I’d like to do it too. Aren’t you all the ones always going on about how I spend too much time thinking of loose women, anyway? Leo won’t let me bring them home, though. Also we’re good friends enough for me to call him Leo. Huge step.’”

 

His friend was smiling in amusement right up until that last part, where he instead pulled a face. “Why do you want to call me Leo so badly?”

 

“Why are  _ you _ so dead set against it?”

 

“It’s unimaginative, for one. And just all around too common.”

 

He hummed. “I see, it’s not the fact that it’s a nickname that’s the problem, just that it’s  _ Leo. _ ”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“I’ll just have to keep trying others out until I find one that fits then… Pie.”

 

Leonardo’s shocked laughter was so sudden that it got caught in his throat, causing him to choke and splutter. “ _ Pie?!” _

 

“Because you’re Leonardo Di Ser  _ Pie _ ro; never mind, I knew it was shit the second I said it. Stop giggling, it’s humiliating!”

 

He did not stop. 

 

“Right, your new nickname is Ass, for Basstard.”

 

A sigh. “Is it because I’m an actual bastard?”

 

“Of course it isn’t, you know I don’t judge you for who your parents were or weren’t. I judge you for being an ass.”

 

Leonardo sniffed. “I am quite proud of my ass, actually, so you might want to reconsider if your goal was to offend me.”

 

“At least you only have one of them,” Ezio sighed. 

 

“What?”

 

“Instead of Eduardo’s two.” He couldn’t resists the urge to snicker as his friend groaned. 

 

“I expected to regret telling you about… me, but I’m doing so for reasons I  _ wasn’t  _ expecting,” Leonardo said. He clicked his tongue. “You’re still quickly approaching being unbearable.”

 

Despite the reproachful tone of the words, Ezio could see Leonardo’s torso shake with what could only be laughter. “Excuse me, I thought that was the one pillar of consistency in this relationship? Me annoying you — and you liking it while pretending you don’t?”

 

“Yes of course, but you’re not supposed to mention it!”

 

“Why not, if it annoys you when I do it?” Ezio said brightly. Finally, he decided that enough was enough and that he needed to  _ go _ before an accident occurred. “Alright, I’ll see you downstairs?”

 

Leonardo nodded, sitting up slowly while still hunched. Still loose-limbed from sleep, like any normal human would be. It struck Ezio then that this was the first intimate moment of its kind that he had ever experienced; he had slept with plenty of people before and stayed the night, and with Cristina he had sometimes even managed to steal a kiss before being on his way. Never before though, had he shared such a moment of domesticity, of lying together in bed, sleeping until their bodies refused to any longer, then laid together while awake as well. Bickering, talking, taking their time, discussing  _ breakfast.  _ It was so nauseatingly domestic that he didn’t know what to do with himself, or what to think of it. He hadn’t even reflected on it during said, rather long, moment. 

 

It had felt natural. Good, even. Brilliant. Wonderful. 

 

He desperately wanted to do it again. Was this what marriage was supposed to be? Was this…? Oh, fuck, he hoped not. He couldn’t go through that again. 

 

_ Right _ , Ezio shook himself.  _ Where the fuck was the toilet _ ?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao you thought i was done? with the slow burn? check those tags. this is a sloooooow burn. ye WERE warned! also i don't think it would be v good for them to get together at they stage they are at rn they need to grow a bit more, especially man baby boy ezio. we will get there. patience, my friends. 
> 
> also hey does anyone reading this live in london. do y'all know a good indian place? i want proper tikka masala for önce in my life. thanks xx


	12. i am running out of thematic florentine foods, send help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bunch of taaaalkiiiiiing and not much plot. ezio is very blunt. leonardo wishes he had a blunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't like this chapter. but i don't know how to fix it so i'm just steamrolling ahead anyway
> 
> a day late because LET ME TELL YOU THE NIGHT I HAD OH MY GOD  
> the full story would be it's own book but here's the abridged version: conservative bi girl said she was going to fuck me, bc of my looks and enthusiasm about Marc Anthony and Cicero. i found a leftist girl i wanted to fuck instead, and our friends set us up to be alone together and we hit it off except conservative girl was still trying to fuck me, until leftist girl had to leave to get to a rave under a bridge. conservative girl held speech about how there IS racism against white people. and how she doesn't like feminists. and so i biked away with another bi girl, whom i did not fuck, but did enjoy ranting on my behalf about how the conservative girl clitblocked me. then bi girl #2 sold some ecstasy to someone and escorted me home.
> 
> so that is why this chapter is a day late

Breakfast consisted of some bread and dried fruit. The usual wine was forgone, after they had both shared a look of trepidation after they both noticed the still present wine bottles that had been emptied the night before. Instead, Leonardo gave him some hot herbal (and possible ginger) concoction that he had stared at with even more hesitation than the thought of more wine has caused. 

Not that he was very hungover; he would have to get absolutely  _ smashed  _ before a hangover would impede his functions. He was a seasoned, experienced party animal. Nothing got in his way, least of all common sense. Expect for that morning, since he had become a sad drunk the night before. Regret of verbal actions undertaken were always worse than any hangover could be.

 

The hot herbal (and gingery?) thingy was not that bad, actually. It even woke him up a bit more. Impressive, considering the fact that they were eating breakfast at four in the morning, to flickering candlelight and completely dark windows. 

 

Ezio took the mug with the hot herbal (yeah, it had to be ginger) thing (it really needed a name) between his hands and held it close to his face, just to enjoy the warmth and smell of it. 

 

“I dub this drink ‘pick-me-up’,” he declared, taking a sip. 

 

“How so?” Leonardo asked, setting down his own cup at the table. 

 

“It has raised my mood, alertness and internal temperature,” Ezio explained. “It’s been a pick me up. That I needed. So if I ever need a pick me up, I’ll make this. Or, more accurately, make you make this for me.”

 

His friend brought the cup up close and took a sip, after which he carefully considered the contents with a blank face. Then, an upward pull of his lips. “You make a fine argument; alright then. It’s a pick me up.”

 

He took a sip of the pick-me-up to hide his smile. “Now,” he began, setting his cup down, “Remember me mentioning having questions?”

 

“Just ask, my friend, it’s fine. There are no more secret between us, I don’t think.”

 

Ezio nodded. “Right. Alright. My question then is, uh… how do you do it?”

 

It was Leonardo’s turn to raise the cup to his lips to hide his expression, but Ezio could still plainly see the slight lowering and pinching of eyebrows that meant that Leonardo was wary and thought he was likely going to regret asking later, but still definitely would. “How do I do what?”

 

“Fuck. With another man.”

 

The face across of him was carefully devoid of any expression for three seconds, before his eyebrows were furrowed just a bit, his mouth open just slightly and his nose wrinkled just so. Compared to the blankness, it was monumental, but the change was really quite small. Still, Leonardo might as well have been screaming  _ WHAT THE FUCK  _ and it would have had the same impact. “Excuse me, Ezio, my dear friend and confidant: did you not, as recently as last night, reveal that you have been sexually involved with another man?”

 

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration! I told you we snogged with our clothes on. And touched — parts. With clothes on. We didn’t get far enough for me to figure out the rest. I mean I can imagine  _ some things _ ,” he laughed, “I’m not an idiot. Rubbing off, pulling off, it’s masturbation squared.”

 

“No, just times two. One squared is one, but one times two is two.”

 

Ezio pulled a face. “Not the point, I was trying to be funny. I know how math works. I love and admire your firm and passionate need to teach other people how to math, though, it’s great.”

 

He could see Leonardo’s fingers twitch against the cup in his hands, even while his face didn’t really change. “Then you won’t mind me saying that math isn’t a verb.”

 

“I don’t, I put that in just for you. Anyway, then I know sucking off is a thing—are you alright? Your face is terribly red.”

 

“I’m fine,” he said, sounding choked. 

 

“Great. What I don’t understand is the actual sex. The mechanics, sure, but it can’t be the same as masturbating, so. What’s it like? Fucking another man?”

 

In lieu of a response, Leonardo simply press his face into his hands and sigh. “It’s too early for this,” he bemoaned. “It’s not even morning, yet.”

 

“You were the one who said I should and could ask questions,” Ezio pointed out, with a slight twitch to his upper lip. 

 

“Yes, well—hold on, I have clear memories of you confessing to having had s– having fumbled with another boy, shouldn’t you already know ‘what it’s like’?”

 

“ _ Fumbled  _ isn’t the same as full on fucking. Fucking is a whole enterprise, you have to devote your whole evening and night to it if you want to do it right. Fumbling is a tuesday afternoon when you’re in a hurry. Not the same, not even remotely close.”

 

Leonardo looked sullenly down at his cup, as if cursing it for not containing something stronger. “I’m quite sure you know what sex is like, considering how much you talk about it.”

 

“Yeah, I know what sex with  _ women  _ is like, but that’s different! How is having sex with a  _ man? _ ”

 

“Very private,” Leonardo deadpanned.

He gathered what he actually meant, and as much as Ezio wanted to push… he at least had to be a little gentle when he kept on pushing. A better person would have left well enough alone, but they also definitely didn’t know Leonardo as well as he did. “Look, if you’re afraid that I’m going to judge you… You don’t have to be. I realise that it’s most likely second-nature to you by now to hide it, but I’ll  _ never  _ judge you.”

 

Now, finally, Leonardo showed a hint of a smile, with an almost mischievous glint in his eye. “Eduardo’s butt chin begs to differ.”

 

Ezio laughed. “I’ll never judge you on anything  _ but  _ your questionable taste in men!” he corrected. “And, possibly, your technique. But I won’t get to do that until you tell me something.”

 

A beat. Leonardo held his gaze, and Ezio stared back, until finally, his friend softened. “Fine. But I maintain my right to keep more personal things personal. General questions on the nature of it all, mechanics and et cetera, are fair game.”

 

Ezio clapped his hands together. “ _ Yes _ good, great!” He quickly scooched his cup to the side so that he could plant his elbows on the table to lean closer. “First off, how do you decide who’s the woman?”

 

Leonardo’s face went back to a blank; only this time, Ezio felt as if he was picturing ways to maim him. “That’s your first question? Who’s the woman?”

 

“... yeah?”

 

A sigh. “We’re both men. That’s the point. No one’s the woman. If one was, then there wouldn’t be a problem.”

 

He could smack himself. Now he felt incredibly foolish, it sounded so obvious when put that way. Still, “Alright, I phrased that terribly. What I meant was, how do you decide who… you know. Receives?”

 

“You mean who’s penetrated?”

 

He snapped his fingers. “Yes, that!”

 

“That’s private. Also, not necessary, really, because there is more to sex than… penetration, as you know, if Aurelia is right.”

 

Ezio perked up. “Aurelia talked about me?”

 

Leonardo nodded. “I mentioned our friendship to her; she called you annoying. And too much of a talker, but noted - rather smugly, I might add - that your mouth was alright enough when when you put it to better use. Between her legs. Then laughed when I asked her to please stop talking about your sexual history. I drew a wart on her for that, I think I still have that sketch around here somewhere…” he looked around the room as if the sketch was to magically appear from the myriad of papers all around to distract them from what was clearly embarrassing Leonardo, simply because he wished it so and was befuddled when it didn’t. 

 

Ezio tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in thought. “I’m torn between being offended by her saying I talk too much and being happy for the well deserved praise; I can mouth anyone ‘off’, if you catch my drift,” he winked. Leonardo pulled a face. 

 

“No, I don’t want to. But also, why not be both?”

 

“Consider me offended and pleased, then. But back to penetration…” 

 

His friend scrunched up his nose. “Could we not?”

 

“I still want to know who decides.”

 

“We both do, because we talk. Like human beings do.”

 

“Right, is which one do you prefer, penetrating or being penetrated?”

 

Leonardo’s spluttered and he kicked his feet to the floor, causing his chair to skid back away from the table with a screech. He held a hand to the edge of the table to support himself, but it looked more like an anchor so that he wouldn’t simply up and run away from the awkward question. “Good God you can’t just  _ ask  _ me that!”

 

“Why not!”

 

Leonardo’s face was growing redder by the second. “It’s  _ private! _ ”he cried. 

 

“Oh come off it, we’re friends! It’s not weird for friends to talk about sex!”

 

“Friends with  _ benefits  _ perhaps — which we are not! Just because I told you about… well, doesn’t mean that I don’t have boundaries!”

 

He put his hands up in defeat. “Alright, as you say, I’ll drop it. I apologise, I won’t ask that again.”

 

“Good,” Leonardo nodded. He bit his lip. “Although… I feel that it’s important to ask, did you feel like a woman when that other boy, in your words, ravished you?”

 

He spluttered. “ _ No! _ No. No, I didn’t.”

 

Leonardo leaned forward, elbows on the table, much like Ezio had just before. He wanted to move back like Leonardo had, but forced himself to stay put as the space between them lessened to mere handspans, all with vivid eye contact. When he wanted to, Leonardo’s beautiful blues could become freakishly intense, even as he didn’t radiate a threat of any kind. “Did he feel like a woman?”

 

“Of course not!”

 

“And did you feel like a woman when Aurelia — by what I’ve gleaned from what you’ve both respectively told me about your encounters — took the reins entirely?”

 

“No! Why the — why?”

 

“Because I think you asked me who was the woman because it is difficult for you to conceive of a relationship that can’t easily be summed down as one aggressive, dominating masculine figure and one submissive, obedient feminine figure. That’s what you’ve been told is the right answer and even if you  _ know _ , without realising it, that it isn’t true, you can’t help that being your initial response. Your own mother is not what anyone would call submissive, but has still instilled in you that you just seek a wife who will obey you. You haven’t been able to even consider a relationship with another man, so as soon as you know of it, you try to make it fix into a box that was made up in the first place. Men  _ can’t  _ all be only one thing, but still you have been told that they are. If they aren’t, they are lesser than men, they are women. And you have just had a major realisation flip your world view, a realisation that risks painting you as being in the role of a woman, something you’re unconsciously desperate to avoid. Are you with me?”

 

He laughed, devoid of humour. “Still no.” Oh,  _ fuck _ it was too  _ fucking  _ early. He was… right though, wasn’t he? It was dumb to try to fit two men into what marriage should be. Sex had always been a separate entity for him. Marriage wasn’t meant to be between men; but of course, marriage wasn’t a guarantee of happiness. That, Ezio couldn’t remember ever believing. It was a contract, nothing less. What marriage  _ should  _ be didn’t matter to him, so why should the way two men in a relationship acted matter to him? At all? It shouldn’t, that’s what! Sex had always been about what the people doing it wanted, not what other demanded that they want; unlike marriage, which was  _ only  _ about the wants of other people. “Or… perhaps. You’re right, it’s just going to take a while for that to properly register. It’s too early for this sort of conversation for me.”

 

His friend simply nodded. “I apologise for heaving that much on you, only it’s something which I’ve had a lot of time to think about myself. I, too, despite being almost exclusively raised by a woman, had a lot of damaging notions. They had a negative impact on my interactions with — other people considered outsiders to polite society. I found myself judging  _ me  _ to be above them, just because I wasn’t effeminate, or because I wasn’t a woman, or because I wasn’t a sex worker. When really, I’m no better or worse. And so I’m not trying to belittle you for not being aware of your own prejudice, I’m just… trying to help you realise it sooner than I did.”

 

That did make him feel a little better. Leonardo always seemed to  _ know  _ so much, it was… strange to consider him actually having to work hard to attain that knowledge, or even imagine him not having it. He sort of pictured baby Leo born holding an encyclopaedia and his first words being him criticising Aristotle. (Who Leonardo spent no inconsiderable amount of time calling an idiot for saying what the human body looks like on the inside without even having looked inside of one. A statement that raised too many questions Ezio wasn’t going to ask.)

 

“How did you realise it, then?”

 

Leonardo paused. “La Rosa Colta. Isabella, apparently, thought I was being judgy, so she sicced Aurelia on me. Who yelled about how I had no right to judge them for anything, when I was the one who came to them. And some other things. I hadn’t even realised I was doing it,” he added, eyes downcast in shame. “That’s why I  _ really  _ started talking to them.”

 

_ Aurelia _ . Figures. “To learn how to not be an asshole?”

 

Leonardo snorted. “Exactly.”

 

As a silence settled, they both drank their pick me ups as one, with Ezio’s slurping (it was hot!) the only noise. That is, until he cupped the cup again in his hands and said, “It also just occurred to me that there’s no sense in asking you what’s  _ different  _ about sex with men.”

 

A sip. “Oh?”

 

“Yes, because that’s just sex to you. Regular, normal, plain old sex. You, unlike me, don’t have any past experiences with women to compare it to.”

 

“Thank goodness no. Really, then, the only way for you to know what’s different would be to,” he paused, “try it?”

  
  


Ezio bit his lower lip in thought. “So… for me to know the difference, I should have sex with a man?” That thought was both incredibly exciting and frightening, his stomach clenched up and got butterflies all at once. He took another sip of the pick me up, but the sudden dryness in his mouth couldn’t be fought. 

 

“ _ Or  _ you should at least go talk to Eduardo,” Leonardo said. His inwardly pursed lips, slightly shaking shoulders and highly aloft eyebrows clearly stated that he knew what Ezio would think of that. 

 

“I can’t do that!” He cried. 

 

“Why not? He’s had it with men and women both, he’s not embarrassed by it and he’s not your friend, so he can explain the mechanics without trepidation.”

 

“Because I won’t hear anything he tells me, because I won’t be able to stop looking at his  _ chin. _ ” Leonardo had  _ fucked  _ that chin; the person attached to it, at least. Eduardo wasn’t otherwise bad looking, he was very tall, but the thought just put Ezio off extremely. He could not. Under no circumstances. 

 

“Now you’re being ridiculous!”

 

“I’m not! It’s a  _ good joke _ , I would look at his face and just lose it. That’s not a good learning environment, not for me or for him!”

 

Leonardo scoffed and rubbed at his eyes — he was, however, still smiling. No one who looked at him could tell, but for Ezio, he thought. It was all in the relaxed shoulders. His artist friend was often tense and so tended to hold his shoulders high up, but when he was relaxed and enjoying himself, he let them fall down into a gentle slope, rather than a rigid angle. They were sloped now. “I’ll come with you to La Rosa Colta.”

 

Ezio perked up in his chair. “You’ll what?”

 

“Wasn’t that what you wanted? A brotherly bonding moment between two male friends? I’ll go with you, you can sit in on one of my sketching sessions. It’s been a while since I last saw Isabella, I could introduce you. If, of course, you promise to talk to Eduardo.”

 

An opportunity to bond with his best friend somewhere that wasn’t his house: out, among people? Socialising together with other people? In the fucking  _ brothel _ ? Tempting. Very, very tempting. He wet his lips in thought. “How do I know Eduardo won’t snitch on me?” It was far from his first time getting into trouble at La Rosa, but the first time the trouble was of that kind. He had whole new issues to worry about, if he was to get to know himself better. 

 

“Because Eduardo is a male prostitute that has had sex with multiple men,” Leonardo said matter of factly. “And your family is rich and powerful. He is lower class. You have all the power there.”

 

“That doesn’t make me feel great in any way at all, but good to know…” he took a deep breath. “I’m in. What day, time?”

 

“I think today will be alright. I have nothing else planned.”

 

Ezio winced. “I… my parents will want to know where I am.” He hadn’t even thought about going home. It didn’t even feel much like a home was waiting for him, anymore. How could he face his father, when everything had changed? The worst part was, that nothing had changed. Not really, he was still the same man. It was only for Ezio for whom things would be irrevocably altered. What could he say?  _ Father, you changed me, and not for the better. You haven’t changed at all, and that makes it all the worse. Changing for the better for me, now, would only anger you further. Do us both a kindness and disown me, please _ ?  _ It would hurt leg than this.  _

 

No. 

 

No, he had to pretend that nothing was amiss. And that would hurt him too much, too soon; he wasn’t ready. 

 

From the look of deep,  sudden empathy on Leonardo’s face, he had realised that as well. 

 

“Oh, Ezio. I’m so sorry, I haven’t even asked how you feel after — what you told me. I can’t imagine you’re very eager to go home.”

 

Ezio shook his head no. “But I know I have to, or they’ll think something has happened to me. I don’t want to worry them, my mother will be  _ furious _ .” Worry kind of made her feel that she could act as angrily as she pleased and that no ill results were her fault, because why did he have to  _ worry  _ her, he should  _ know  _ better than to  _ do  _ that didn’t she raise him  _ better  _ than  _ that _ . 

 

“Send a message saying you’re — sick?”

 

“I just said I don’t want them to worry!”

 

Leonardo pinched his lips together before his eyes widened. “Oh, I will simply have to go and ask that they let me host you!”

 

“That you’ll what?”

 

Leonardo spread his hands and cooled his expression to a gentle calm. “You understand, signora Auditore, whom I am dear friends with, your son Ezio visited me yesterday but due to the unfortunate weather, he was greatly chilled. While he is not ill, he became fatigued and slept through the entire evening and night and was still tired and hot to the touch this morning. While I do not think that he is at any risk, I believe that it would be best if he were to continue to rest today so as not to put any more stress on his body and risk him developing some other malady. I shall strive to return him to you in the morning. No, no, it’s no trouble, I am happy to help. I would like to call us friends, after all, so I am only glad to do what little I can to assist your son. Yes, I shall have a doctor see to him to confirm that he isn’t at risk. I personally believe that he will have recovered by this evening, but I dare not speculate too much on medical matters, as medicine is something which I am not trained in. Thank you, signora Auditore, I bid you good day.”

 

Ezio hummed. “Impressive improvised bullshit, there, but you fail to account for the wild cards in your equation.”

 

“Which are?”

 

He leaned forward to mutter forebodingly, “My  _ siblings. _ Petruccio will fear that I’m dying, Federico will pretend to believe you but will needle you to try and guess what I’m up to in case he wants to join in or needs to do damage control later. And Claudia? Won’t believe you for a  _ second.  _ If I died, she would poke my dead body with a stick and announce that I was just faking it. She would demand to see me under the pretence of concern.”

 

He had no doubts that his sister loved him, in her own way. But their relationship was nothing if not complicated. She would be worried, too, if it turned out that he actually was ill. But no one was more aware of his flaws and lying tendencies than perhaps she. 

 

Leonardo absorbed that in silence, before quirking a speculative brow. “And if I said that I would pass on her well wishes but politely refuse? Forgive me for assuming, but I believe that if your mother said no, she wouldn’t have a choice but to obey.”

 

“You would be right, but you would make a potential enemy of her.”

 

His friend laughed with warmth, leaning forward to clasp Ezio’s arm. “My dear friend, from what I can tell, that ship sailed when I decided to let you befriend me.”

 

Ezio choked on his laughter and spluttered, reflexively grasping Leonardo’s hand with his own to steady himself. “ _ Let me _ befriend you?! What!”

 

“You might have noticed that I don’t invite many people into my home,” Leonardo answered. “While I do have many acquaintances and work friends and such like, I’m not very close with very many. But you seemed genuinely disinterested in using me for anything but an escape, so I let you. You haven’t given me cause to regret it.” A beat. “Except for when you make me question my sanity, like earlier.”

 

“Wait, which time today?”

 

“The fact that you have to ask  _ which  _ should really ring warning bells for you.”

 

“Lord, you’re so  _ sassy _ in the morning,” he flashed a lopsided smile, “Did Buttchin get to see this side of you?”

 

Leonardo tutted. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “For someone so proud of his sexual history and insistence of you not being prejudiced, you  _ sure  _ are preoccupied with the one partner I have ever told you about,” he mused, cavalier in a way that he usually wasn’t, which really meant that he wasn’t calm about anything right then. 

 

Ezio froze for a split second before his self-preservation made him shrug. “I’m not trying to be hypocritical, I promise. My dislike of Eduardo has nothing to do with you or with you sleeping with him, and everything to do with him being sleazy.” He paused. “And having a chin that looks like a butt. But I realise that the more I mention it the less funny it becomes, so. I promise to stop. Sorry for making you think I was judging you. I wasn’t. Only a little bit, but I realise that you don’t have as many options as I do.”

 

Leonardo pursed his lips, but let his arms down. “It was only funny the first time,” he said. “The other times you just sound jealous.”

 

“I— you,  _ jealous?! _ What! I am not  _ jealous  _ of Eduardo, of all people!  No!”

 

Leonardo put up a placating hand. “I was only joking.”

 

“I have  _ nothing  _ to fear from Eduardo, why would I be  _ jealous _ ?”

 

“Nothing to fear, hm? Then you won’t mind coming to see him today.”

 

Ezio narrowed his eyes. “You’re right, I don’t. I’m going with you, someone needs to watch out for your virtue.”

 

“Far too late for that, I fear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ezio: it's a pick me up!  
> Leo's internal monologue: it's called tea. but he's cute, so i'll let this slide


	13. Basilica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I HOPE THE FUCK NOT"
> 
> a very quiet dancer and an incredibly mouthy sex worker are thrown into the story like live grenades in an enclosed space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't love this chapter. i didn't have time to edit and i wrote a lot of it last night, i wish i had time to rewrite everything set in the brothel but i couldn't come up with anything better fast enough. i'll rewrite this someday probably. as you've probably noticed every serious moment must be weighed up by something ridiculous, bc i just?? that's what my life has always been like. everything is completely serious and adult-y and then suddenly your friend whispers "oh my god, that's one sexy rock" and you look and there's a rock that looks like a butt. that's life, fuckers!
> 
> warning: slut shaming. not towards the sex workers or anyone working in the brothel, but Aurelia the prostitute says "known slut Ezio fucking Auditore". i think i just really miss Gina Linetti and accidentally made her an homage in the form of Aurelia the was-supposed-to-be-a-one-off-person-in-a-joke-story-but-accidentally-gained-sentience-and-is-now-an-actual-character.

He was alone in Leonardo’s home. Leonardo was out there, somewhere, in Firenze by himself, or maybe he was already knocking on the door to the Auditore home. Perhaps he had even been let inside, kissed his mother’s hand, sat down in their parlour. It was nerve wracking. Ezio felt rather pathetically like a nervous housewife, with nothing to do but wait around for her husband to return, unable to entertain herself because her existence didn’t extend beyond him. 

 

Scratch that, he didn’t feel like a housewife, they had stuff to do. His mother worked harder than his father ever did. He was a dog, pacing endlessly back and forth, worried, uncomprehending of anything in the house that maybe might have provided some entertainment and so left with nothing to do but wait. Leonardo had books, but the ones he had found were all… unfortunately  _ clever.  _ Ezio wasn’t as dumb as he was thought to and pretended to be, but those things were just too boring. He looked, but couldn’t find any epic poems or other stories. He had nothing to write except maybe  _ Dear Diary, I miss Leonardo, who has so far only been gone for maybe half an hour.  It’s even more pathetic than it sounds, send help, preferably blonde, eloquent and gay.  _

 

He had never learned to draw in any way at all, and Leonardo’s supplies were too expensive to use for nothing but actual work. There weren’t any instruments laying about either. All he could do was to pace back and forth across the studio, walk around the upper floor in a daze and drag his fingers across Leonardo’s elegant doublets, imagining that Leonardo’s warm body was underneath its layers. That was a little creepy, maybe he should calm down and take an educational book to read, after all. Maybe something medicinal? That ought to be interesting. 

 

* * *

 

Learning that mumia was made by mummified human flesh wasn’t what he would consider a good time. He ought to have known, it was in the name, but he still thought that his mother ought to have told him the truth about  _ why  _ the medicine he took was disgusting when he was younger. Open wide Ezio, you need to take your crushed decomposed human meat now if you want to grow big and strong. 

 

He wasn’t having a good time, but time was passing, which was—good. And he wasn’t  _ bored  _ at least. Curled up in front of the smouldering fire he had kept alive, even as the day grew to not be as cold as the one before, with the book in hand, he was so startled when the door opened that he damn near jumped out of his own skin. 

 

Naturally, it was Leonardo. Less naturally, he was carrying a blanket covered basket over one arm, which he set down on the closest available table where it looked like it might not cause an avalanche of papers. “Hello again, my friend! We are in the clear,” he grinned. 

 

Ezio put the book to the side and stood up. “Really? How did it go?”

 

“Exactly as you predicted it, except for your father actually being present. It was good to finally but a face to the name—and you really did get all your good looks from your mother, congratulations.” 

 

Any leftover worry disappeared as Ezio was shocked into laughter. Out of everything that could’ve been said,  _ he wasn’t  _ or  _ he was exactly like I imagined him to be,  _ or  _ if you hadn’t told me what he did, I would never have guessed _ , or  _ silly you, hiding away here when there’s no danger to be found at home for you.  _ That last one wasn’t very likely, it wasn’t likely at all, however the thought of  _ maybe  _ had still tugged at the ragged edges of his patience. 

 

“Did he give you any trouble?”

 

“Oh no, he was polite to a fault. He barely spared me a thought at all — he seemed comfortable letting signora Maria take the reins.” Leonardo began to sort through the basket, before picking it up again without taking anything out. 

 

And wasn’t that a sobering reminder. “I don’t know how I keep forgetting that you’re friends with my mother.”

 

Leonardo began to walk to his small kitchen (which he had, as it appeared, forgotten existed until he tried to pack up what appeared to be foodstuff on one of his work tables. Truly, he never ceased to impress), and Ezio followed with nary a thought. 

 

“Yes, well, she and I are not anywhere near the kind of friends you and I are,” Leonardo said, putting the basket down on a much better surface. 

 

Ezio snorted, distinctly remembering the combinations of events distastefully dubbable as kiss followed by cuddle and stiffy. “God, I hope not.”

 

Going by Leonardo’s not so discrete and sudden cough, he had remembered the same thing. “I— ah, would more describe our friendship as something similar to friendly coworkers, or neighbours. We know each other somewhat and are friendly, but do not often interact outside of certain, set circumstances.” He took of the blanket and folded it neatly, before throwing it over his shoulder into the table. “Which means that, well… I hardly know her at all, really. I know a facsimile. I’m sure if we compared notes, she would sound like two completely different people.”

 

“Sorry but, yeah? Of course she’ll sound like two different people, no one is the same around their family as they are around others. I’m her son, you’re her artist friend. No way is she trying to raise you, or manage you, or protect you the same way she will with her children. You don’t know a facsimile as much as you know a part of her.”

 

Leonardo conceded his point with a nod of his head. “True. But it does bear thinking of, when we interact with people we don’t know very well, how much are we being honest with what we  _ do  _ show, and how much is an outright lie?”

 

“That depends.”  It had always been quite clear cut to Ezio, that nothing was ever clear cut when people were involved. 

 

Leonardo looked curious. “On what?”

 

“On what you  _ want.  _ Do you want friendship, companionship, a business deal or transaction, do you want an alliance, a challenge, information, a partnership, a compassionate ear, a healer, a priest, a parent, a sibling? We don’t approach people the same way because we don’t want all the same things from them when we first get to know them. I don’t mean to make it sound like we’re all just greedy and focused on our own desires; I’m talking about  _ why  _ we talk to a specific person, and not someone else. My mother didn’t mean to make you a surrogate son and so treats you differently. She sook you out as a talented artist because of how popular you are among her acquaintances and friends. She wants you for your work, kind disposition, talent and to boost her own status.

“Our first real conversation wasn’t exactly planned out on my part, but our continued friendship was just that: friendship. I wanted to get to know you. I based how  _ I  _ acted around that, by being myself in turn. She showed you her professional and polite side, I showed you what I’m like with my friends. People are complicated and have different faces for different situations, that’s not deceit. Unless you  _ are  _ lying to get something, then you’re just an asshole. Like lying to a girl to get her to sleep with you. That’s shit. But being flirty and upfront about your interest? Isn’t lying just because you don’t do that with everyone.” 

 

And he just rambled. But, going by the sheer sunshine emitted by Leonardo’s smile, his friend didn’t mind. “I don’t have any good response to that,” he admitted, almost sheepishly, “except for that I wholeheartedly agree, and hadn’t even thought of it that way. But you’re absolutely right.”

 

Ezio shrugged, feeling embarrassed but not really knowing why. “If it’s one thing I do know, it’s human relationships. Or, at least, I thought I knew. But that wasn’t my fault, I hope, because —,” this was an important discovery, that he didn’t know when he had made. It had happened sometime during the last hours, between crying his eyes out to waking up wrapped around his best friend to waiting alone and worried, without him knowing it. He had realised that the lie his father had told may had caused far more, and far more grievous, consequences than he had thought possible. Just one lie from his father, one of the most important people in his life, had misshapen one of his greatest strengths: that of understanding people. It caused him to… doubt himself, and what he knew, and to not even consider the possibility of what he should have and would have known was it not for that lie. His father began it, but Ezio had masterfully continued that lie within himself, and made what was probably barely a thought out move at all on his father’s part into a life changing way of thinking. “— because I was lied to. Which made me see a lot of stuff differently, but I still  _ know  _ people. I’ve always been good at that.”

 

“I envy you that,” Leonardo said, voice soft, expression tender, despite the words Ezio had before only ever heard in acidic snarls. Envy was a sin, wasn’t supposed to be a good thing. It, like most things, had two sides. He saw that the soft expression was one of admiration. He looked as if he was about to say more, but held himself back. 

 

“Your mother was kind enough to order one of your maids to give us a little care package. Lovely girl, that Maria.”

 

_ Girl…?  _ Ezio gave him a strange look. 

 

Leonardo laughed. “Sorry, I meant the maid Maria. Lucky for her everyone in your home calls your mother signora, signora Auditore or just mother. Very short, brunette, freckles.”

 

“ _ Oh _ , you mean Corsi!” A beat. “She gave you her  _ first name _ ?” Nevermind his previous bemoaning about Leonardo not giving women any romantic attention, he was glad he wasn’t interested. It would’ve been too much competition; he wasn’t sure if he would have won. 

 

Leonardo looked like he was struggling not to squirm. “Yes, well. She was kind. We have some fresh schiacciata all’olio, a little wine, – though I can’t say I’m very tempted by that right now – some cold cuts, and  _ oh Lord,  _ I didn’t know she packed figs! Look!” He proudly brandished one of the little, ugly things, high in the air like a prize, with a large, child like grin. “I  _ love  _ figs, this is fantastic.”

 

“Yeah,” Ezio nodded. He was only looking at Leonardo. Nothing else, in that moment, could have mattered more. “It is.”

 

-

 

They decided that late afternoon would be the best time. Later than dinner, or even around dinner time, there would be a crowd, and the people they wanted to see might be occupied. Too late, and they would all be too tired. But any earlier, and the same would go then, what with the brothel’s schedule throwing off the workers’ schedules compared to everyone else. They packed Leonardo’s necessary supplies, donned Ezio in one of his jackets with his hair hanging loose. Being without a ribbon was guaranteed to throw off someone who might think  _ hey, is that Ezio Auditore? _ but by then they would be too far away to catch a look at him a second time. 

 

Once they arrived, from safe streets, with safe identities, they went in through the back — the way the workers themselves usually took. It meant that there was less of a grand entrance to be had, before being swept away by the beautiful rooms and people, and the sultry atmosphere, and more of a…. well, corridor. It looked like any old corridor. Narrow, a bit too dark, and stale, though well used going by how scuffed the carpet and walls were, from dragged feet, heels and accidentally knocking and scraping all sorts of things into the walls. Multiple entrance ways were set into the walls, extending into what Ezio guessed were more corridors, and some rooms. This was how they moved around so quickly, he realised, and how he never saw a single cleaner or even laundry basket even once during his many visits, despite how often they were needed. 

 

“I always come through here,” Leonardo said, “so I don’t mingle with the customers. If whoever volunteers for a sketch is busy, Adelaide’s often kind enough to keep me company in the kitchen.”

 

There was a kitchen? Fuck, of  _ course  _ there was a kitchen, how stupid could he be; they all had to eat and drink when working, same as anyone. They even served guests sometimes, he himself had eaten during a particularly long evening with his friends, more than once. 

 

“And Adelaide is — the cook?”

 

Leonardo nodded. “The one and only. There are a few maids, too, but the women often pitch in when they can, and they do a lot of things themselves. Not too many servants want this establishment in their references, no matter how legitimate it is. It’s mostly girls who were unfairly tossed out of the houses they worked in before, but don’t want to or can’t do what the girls  _ you’re  _ familiar with do.”

 

Ezio was considering how to beat respond when someone stuck their head out of one of the entrances, looking curious. He recognised her as Isabella, the one whom Leonardo had told him about earlier. Her brown hair was loosely braided and her clothes loose and modest, which was quite a different look than he usually saw her in. Her face quickly changed into joy when she saw who it was. 

 

“Messere Leonardo!” she greeted warmly, stepping into the hallway fully and taking some quick, light like the dancer she was, steps towards them. Ezio was almost startled by how young she looked, then. It was a sharp contrast from seeing her working, where she was excepted to be grown, experienced, maybe even mysterious, and definitely seductive. The bubbly girl skidding to a stop in front of them with her hands clasped to her chest and smile large enough to burst was a far cry from that personality. “How good to see you! We hadn’t expected you back yet so soon, and with a guest! Have you taken on an apprentice, like you said you mi–  _ oh my god _ !” Ezio startled at how quickly her eyes snapped open and her hands flew to her mouth, as if the devil had appeared behind him. Just as soon as that change happened, she calmed and curtsied, but there was still shock visible in her stiff movements, and reluctance to look him in the eye. 

 

“Messere Auditore, I must apologise, I didn’t recognise you at first — I am terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so familiar.”

 

“That’s fine, I don’t mind at all,” he said, feeling very much like a villain without meaning to. Before he could say anything else, Leonardo took the reins. 

 

“He’s here to watch me sketch, Bella, nothing else,” he assured her. “You can trust him, he’s a  _ friend. _ ” While the regular meaning behind that sentiment was obvious enough, the significance behind the word’s cadence and why it seemed to instantly deflate Isabella’s worry escaped him up until he felt Leonardo grab his hand. At which point, he could’ve fallen through the floor. 

 

_ Oh.  _

 

His face heated. It felt wrong to lie like that, even if it did make Isabella calm, and return to the bright eyed and bushy tailed demeaned she had first displayed. “Oh!” She said. Yes, Ezio very much agreed. Oh. Leonardo’s hand was the same size as his own, and calluses just as much but in different ways, warm and secure. 

 

“I didn’t think you would bring a — friend,” she said, in a way that clearly meant  _ weren’t you single two days ago? _ “and never would I have imagine it would be, uhm. You, sir Ezio. Sorry, I didn’t even know that you two knew each other. I, ah, how long  _ have _ you two — known each other?” She wrung her hands and her eyes darted between the two of them, her hands, her feet, their feet, the walls, them again, not knowing where it should stick. 

 

“Not very long,” Leonardo said. “A few months now.” And how ambiguous wasn’t that. He wasn’t lying, she  _ had _ asked about how long they had been friends and not… what their clasped hands were implying. Ezio squeezed by instinct, just to remind himself of the fact that yes, that was Leonardo’s hand intertwined with his own, and felt a burst of  _ something  _ in his chest when he was squeezed back. Ezio was impressed, in a way, how quickly Leonardo could lie to someone he had said he considered a friend, as much as he was also shocked by it. 

 

Isabella looked shocked as well, and also, hurt. “I— had no idea. I’m happy for you,” she said, in a way that really begged  _ why didn’t you tell us.  _ Still, she smiled, showing in the truth in what she had said with how genuine it was. Even if she did, still, look confused. 

 

Suddenly, it was if he was struck by a lightning bolt with how quickly and out of nowhere, a part of his mind said  _ that’s how you should have reacted when Christina told you.  _ He hadn’t thought about Christina in… a while; nevertheless, he saw the truth in it, as painful as it was. Maybe, if he had, she would still be in his life, at least in part, and  _ focus! Leonardo.  _ Was beside him, and hadn’t left, so neither should he, even if it was only within the reaches of his own mind. He looked to his side, his right, at his friend, and could feel their hands still, and how tightly Ezio gripped it now, like a man lost at sea clinging to driftwood. 

 

Ezio could feel Leonardo tense beside him as he saw that flicker of hurt in Isabella as well. “I’m sorry, Bella, I didn’t want to tell you until it was… clear. We weren’t — exclusive. But it is now, we are, and that’s why I’m here.”

 

She looked so relieved by it that Ezio could cry for her. She even laughed. “I have to tell Aurelia before you do. She will need a minute to process it, or I think this might do her in.”

 

“And another minute to prepare her critique,” Leonardo noted drily, though not unkindly. 

 

“At least,” Ezio said, “she’s got earlier material to work with, with how well she knows me. Imagine if you had brought a stranger.”

 

Isabella giggled. “I don’t think it would have been much worse, honestly.” Despite that she was exceedingly polite and reluctant to offend, it was still very easy to read beneath the lines that  _ a random stranger would probably have been better than Ezio fucking Auditore, and Leonardo is either in an open relationship with Ezio fucking Auditore, or doesn’t know that he’s still somewhat of a regular here.  _ In Aurelia’s place, Ezio would have launched himself into the sun. 

 

Oh no. 

 

He was going to get the “hurt him and I’ll kill you” talk. He had never gotten one of those before, still, he had heard enough horror stories from his friends for his stomach to do a flip. 

 

“As much as I would indeed like to see her, I must admit that I was hoping that  _ you  _ could spare us an hour or two,” Leonardo said, almost sheepishly. Isabella’s face flushed and she looked down at her hands again. 

 

“Oh, dear, and here I haven’t even dressed properly…” she laughed nervously, then curtsied. “I would be honoured. Can I— can I tell Aurelia before we sit down for your art, though? And give her that time to settle.”

 

“Of course, whatever suits you best,” Leonardo said. “I’m surprised she isn’t busy already.” He would have made a splendid career as a diplomat, Ezio thought. For how awkward he often was with Ezio, here, he was a natural. Maybe it felt simpler, when there was little to lose, in term of how serious his attachment was. Maybe the curve balls Ezio just threw at him randomly throughout his social visits were enough to throw his friend off his game. Maybe he was just a good actor. Who could tell, but the man himself? Ezio wasn’t about to ask. 

 

Isabella smiled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know if she’s free, actually. But I might as well see. So, uh. Great. Uh, would you two like some refreshments? I could have something brought up to my room, whatever you like.”

 

“Thank you, but we’re fine,” Ezio said. 

 

“What he means is, please don’t exert yourself on our account. The gesture is appreciated. Maybe simply an ale each? Whatever Adelaide has prepared is enough.”

 

Isabella bowed her head, looking relieved. “Of course. I’ll ask her to have it brought up. Please wait here, I’ll be back soon to escort you to my room,” she said, before scurrying off. 

 

“She strikes me more like a servant than a courtesan,” Ezio remarked. Same twitchy nature, no practiced confidence to be found, however faked. 

 

“She was, before she came here. Old habits die hard. That’s why I asked for ale, it makes her feel more at ease to have been given a task and to play hostess. Still, she is a dancer, not a courtesan. The distinction is important to her, please make an effort to remember it.”

 

Oh. “I didn’t know there was an important distinction, there.”

 

“Well, most are both. She is not. Ask her later, if you want.”

 

“I think I will.”

 

* * *

 

Isabella chose to lead them through the more hidden corridors than to bring them into the areas where customers might see them. They weren’t undisturbed on their way to her room, as some courtesans and other workers used their way as well. All of them did a double-take when they recognised Ezio, which turned into outright staring when they saw Leonardo with him. Within a few hours, everyone in the building and some outside it would undoubtedly know that Ezio Auditore, known regular, and beloved artist Leonardo di Ser Piero were seen together in the company of a dancer who apparently wasn’t a prostitute. He wondered what the rumour mill would make of it. He was even looking forward to it. 

 

“Here we are, sirs,” Isabella said, stopping to open a door that looked like any other, with absolutely nothing to help make it easier to know whose room it was. Inside, it was quite different from the other rooms in the bordello. 

 

It wasn’t decorated in a noteworthy way, only in the same manner one might try to make an otherwise nondescript, almost sterile environment  _ theirs.  _ A plant on the table, a blanket that was cheerfully colourful. A chipped mug left out, knitting and sewing supplies left on the table, sketches pinned to the walls, most of them of who Ezio realised to be Aurelia. There were no books to be found, which Ezio found strange after having spent so much time with Leonardo, which confused him until he remembered that most people couldn’t read or write. 

 

Still, there was a bible. It looked unread, but it was the thought that counted. Probably. He wasn’t sure. Rosary beads on top of it, laid lovingly curled like a coil, deliberately so. Isabella, it seemed, was devout. That was something he hadn’t considered, that anyone in the bordello would be devout. They were the very definition of sinners, that not even his priest could forgive. The church wouldn’t welcome them, so why pray?

 

Then again, why did he. 

 

“Make yourselves at home,” Isabella said. “I’ll go — talk to Aurelia.” She left, closing the door so softly behind her that it made no sound. 

 

Leonardo went to sit in the one of two chairs by a small, round table in the corner, and readied his sketch materials. 

 

“If I know Aurelia correctly,” he said, sharpening his stick of charcoal, “Isabella won’t be returning alone.”

 

Ezio took the second chair. “Why not just tell her to bring her from the start, then?”

 

“I am holding out for a miracle. I still have hope, however small.” There was a pause. “The real miracle would be if she’s working, though. That will give me a day, and you two, I believe. She would harass me in my own home, but she knows better than to try the same with you.”

 

“I wish she didn’t,” Ezio grinned. “It would be hilarious. For five minutes, before I was murdered by my own family, but still.”

 

Leonardo leaned back in his chair, holding his chin, thoughtful. “I have noticed that you joke about your family killing you a lot.”

 

Ezio blinked. “I hadn’t noticed.” Before Leonardo could say anything else about it, he continued, “I noticed that you said that you’re close with Aurelia and Isabella, but Isabella called you  _ sir.  _ Might you, perhaps, have a problem keeping people you like at an arm’s length to save yourself from the possibility of getting hurt?”

 

Leonardo sat still, still in the same position as before, completely silent. “What you aren’t saying is that I do that a lot, don’t I?”

 

“Analyse me?” Ezio asked. His friend nodded. “Yeah. I don’t really mind, though, it’s challenging. And you’re smart, you analyse things, people, it’s what you do. I won’t ask you to stop just because you’re often right.”

 

Leonardo hid his fond smile behind his hand, even as his eyes revealed him. “As long as you get to get back at me once or twice, I suppose.”

 

Ezio didn’t hide his smile. “Or an even dozen.”

 

Anything more that could have been said was interrupted by the door slamming open so forcefully that it knocked into the wall with a bang. In marched Aurelia, hair completely undone and flowing in long waves behind her with the speed she moved forward. The only things she was wearing were her jewellery, slippers and petticoat. Isabella was just a step behind her, frantically trying to cover her bare chest with a robe. Her partial nakedness was so strange and the situation such a shock that Ezio barely even noticed. Leonardo, however, did, judging by the way he tore his hat off and slapped it over his eyes with the speed of lightning. 

 

Aurelia skid to a halt just a meter and a half in front of them and put her hands on her hips, while Isabella turned from her valiant effort of forcing modesty on her friend to close the door. Aurelia narrowed her eyes, looked at Ezio, then at Leonardo, then back to Ezio.

 

She must have either decided that Leonardo was going to be mentally indisposed for a bit, or she just blamed Ezio entirely — either way she was only focused on him when she said, “What the fuck are you playing at, virgin?”

 

“Hey Aurelia,” he said, “So glad you weren’t busy.”

 

Aurelia waved it off with a scoff. “I was; I just tied my customer to the bed and left him there.” Isabella appeared behind her again, this time succeeding in getting Aurelia to put her arms into the robe’s sleeves. Aurelia didn’t even look behind her.

 

Ezio couldn’t help it — he laughed. “He  _ pays _ you for that?”

 

Isabella tied the sash around Aurelia’s waist while she snorted. “Don’t be an idiot, he’s paying me to fuck him. The rest was up to interpretation.”

 

“You can put your hat away now, Leonardo,” Isabella said. Leonardo reluctantly complied, but his shoulders sagged in relief once he saw that Aurelia’s chest was indeed covered up. 

 

“Why are you such a baby, Leo? It’s nothing you haven’t drawn before,” Aurelia said. 

 

Leonardo looked remarkably composed for a man whose entire face, ears and neck was the same colour as a ripe tomato. “I was prepared then,” he said haughtily. “It wasn’t necessarily the, the — nakedness, as it was the suddenness of it.”

 

“Just as shocking as discovering that  _ oh, woe is me, never will I find love, oh, woe is me, for I’m in love with the sun but can only hope to stand in his shadow,  _ or  _ woe is me, I love men so much, when will a man love me,  _ has been whinging about that while secretly dating  _ known slut, _ ” she gestured towards Ezio, “Ezio fucking Auditore? For  _ months?! _ I felt sorry for you, you bastard!”

 

Who was the sun? “Don’t drag his mother into this,” Ezio protested. Aurelia wrinkled her nose in pure disgust. 

 

“God, he even  _ talks  _ like you now. What the fuck, Leonardo?”

 

Ezio came to his friend’s defence again, “We weren’t exclusive until recently.”

 

Isabella quietly crossed her arms while Aurelia laughed humourlessly. “I hope the fuck not! You know, considering the fact that you were last here what, a fortnight ago?”

“I also… ah,” Leonardo hesitated. “Wasn’t sure until recently. We weren’t completely on the same page on things.” He looked at Ezio and their eyes met. They didn’t glance away.

 

“Yeah,” Ezio said, loving that little stray strand of hair that had fallen out of place and over Leonardo’s brow when he took off his hat “We aren’t exactly known for being the best at communicating. Took a while for us to finally clear things up.”

 

Aurelia crossed her arms. “So… why now?”

 

Ezio worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He was still looking at Leonardo, even though he was speaking to Aurelia. “I decided that he means more to me than appearances ever could. I would leave my family, the family business, this town, if that’s what it takes.”

 

“To make him happy?”

 

His throat was dry. He swallowed, but it didn’t help. He was thinking about what he wished that Christina had told him, and what he wished that he had told her. More, though, he was thinking about his best friend, sitting across for him, and how no answer had ever been easier than this one. “Nothing matters more.”

 

It occurred to him then that neither of them had really lied about anything, while implying a whole lot that wasn’t true. But what he had said, after the bit about exclusivity, was nothing but the truth. Leonardo, it seemed, realised this. He had the same look on his face that he had had the night before, the sort of open, vulnerable wonder portrayed by his wide eyes like heaven, that looked at Ezio as if he was an angel. It was terrifying and giddy in equal measures. 

 

Then he heard a sniff. “Oh my god.” He looked up to see Isabella with her hands covering her mouth and Aurelia with red tinted eyes, close to tears. “I’ve gotta — I’ve gotta go. Oh my god. I’ve got a, uh, customer, my god, I have to go. Isabella, love, tell me everything later, thanks for letting me know. Leonardo, good to see you. Virgin slut, good for you, god, I have to—” she squeezed Isabella’s shoulder before disappearing out of the door. She even remembered to close it behind her. 

 

For a moment that lasted forever, and not a long time at all, silence reigned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last day of summer work tomorrow !!!!!!!! YES
> 
> also WOWW i don't write as much as i should but in my defence my social life is !!! great as is the rest, so i guess i don't feel the same urgent need for validation through my writing as i do when life is more fucky? that said, i love comments. validate me. have thoughts? give them to me. even if all i can respond with is an incoherent "*sobbing* thank you so much". i lov yu.


	14. mela rossa di Firenze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [EXIT bi, pursued by bi]
> 
> the one thing that ezio has in common with isabella is that they're both bi and C O M P L E T E L Y ignorant of their crushes being reciprocated (or that they even have a crush in the first place. come on guys you're better than this)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short and quick chapter mostly written today because man have i had a busy week oh god. it's mostly comedic and not plotty but sets up the heavy stuff ezio has to deal with very soon.

For a moment that lasted forever, and not a long time at all, silence reigned. Then, Isabella jumped as if shocked, saying “Oh! I forgot the ale!”

 

Ezio got up quickly. “I’ll go get it, it’s fine.”

 

“I couldn’t possibly—” Isabella protested, but Ezio stopped her with a hand. 

 

“You and Leonardo can discuss the sketching particulars while I get them, I don’t mind. It’s all bound to fly over my head anyway,” he said, already pulling the door open. He was out in the corridor before she could protest again. Relieved, he leaned back on the door, head cranked backwards. He took a deep breath, then pushed himself away. 

 

Alone, he gathered even more double takes and odd looks than he had before; Leonardo was apparently a common enough sight where customers never went that seeing him wasn’t very unusual. The same could not be said for Ezio. Nevertheless, the walk was quick and the people actually fewer now that most had likely begun working. Before he knew it, he had entered the kitchen. 

 

And was greeted by the suspicious and wary gazes of seven prostitutes in the middle of a hurried dinner before work, all seated along a long table, all of whom Ezio had slept with at least once. One of them, a short woman called Bianca, who had sat on his face twice, took a deep swig of her ale without looking away. 

 

Not knowing what else to do to lessen the tension, he waved and said, “Hello.”

 

About half of the women answered with greeting of their own, while the rest continued to chew in silence. 

 

“Don’t mind me,” Ezio continued. “I’m not here as a customer today, really, I’m just here to fetch Isabella and Ser Piero some ale.”

 

The wariness shifted to shock and curiosity. “Hold on,” a freckled woman called Noemi said, “you’re friends with Ser Piero? Since when?”

 

He wasn’t very thrilled about how people’s first reaction when they learned of their friendship was most often sheer disbelief. “Since ages. I just haven’t been with him here while he works, before, that’s all.”

 

Extremely curly haired Beliğ was the next to cut in, “So you’re  _ not  _ here with your other friends? I thought your little gang were inseparable.”

 

His friends were there? And hadn’t invited him? 

 

Right, because he was “ill”, so any invitation sent to his house would’ve been replied to with one of his parents politely asking them to fuck off with their fucking invitations to fuck. 

 

“I didn’t know they were coming,” he said honestly. “If I did, I would’ve stayed home, since I’m technically pretending to be sick and at Leonardo’s place right now. Do me a favour and don’t let them know that I’m here, or pass on the rumour of me faking illness?”

 

“Four soldi,” Greta, who had been twenty-five for seven years now, said. “Each.”

 

“One soldo.”

 

“Three soldi.”

 

“Two soldi and five dinari, if you help me make sure they don’t know I’m here.”

 

“Two soldi six denari,” countered Greta, her grin suggesting that she was just teasing him at this point. 

 

“Done,” he said, removing his pouch to dole out the payment. He didn’t have enough to make it completely evenly split between them all, but there was no doubt that they would settle that after he had gone. They were professionals, after all. 

 

“I’ll help you bring up the ale,” Beliğ said, gracefully getting out of her seat. 

 

“Can’t believe Isabella sent him down alone in the first place,” Anna, who had been sitting next to Beliğ, muttered. 

 

“She didn’t,” Ezio said, “I offered, then went before she could refuse.”

 

Greta snorted. “Sounds in character.” It was remarkable how radically different they were then and there from when he had met them before. On the job, neither of them would ever dream of being anything but overly friendly and complimentary, and only sassy if the person they directed it towards found it attractive. Remarkable, but not strange, considering the fact that Ezio  _ had  _ just invaded their private space and rare freetime. 

 

Beliğ, meanwhile, had produced a tray, a bottle of ale and only two cups. At Ezio’s questioning look, she explained, “It looks more proper to only be serving you and Ser Piero, and to have the bottle just for refilling. Now, come.”

 

“That’s alright,” Ezio said, “I’ve never been one to insist on ceremony, I’ll just drink from the bottle.” Leaving the kitchen, he could immediately hear and feel the tension that had been taut in the air lift as excited chatter began to take space — more than a little bit of it surely being at his expense. He would have done the same, of course. 

 

Beliğ scrunched her nose. “I would have thought to instead share a cup with Ser Piero, but I’m sure the bottle will do just as well,” she said, diplomatically. 

 

Unbeknownst to Beliğ, Ezio’s thoughts latched its hooks into her words and flew off deeper and deeper into his own psyche. They brought him back to the night before, the bottle they had shared rather than a cup, which in turn brought him to what else had been shared, then the intimate touches shared, a bed shared, a home—

 

“I’m afraid I don’t like sharing,” he lied. 

 

Beliğ made what might have been an amused little noise, or an affronted one, down in the back of her throat. 

 

“Since there’s no one else here at the moment, may I ask you a question?” Ezio asked, looking around while continuing their walk to confirm that they were free from potential eavesdroppers. “At your discretion, as well.”

 

Beliğ raised a dark, meticulously groomed eyebrow. “You may, but I can’t promise that I know the answer without first knowing the question.”

 

He took a deep breath. “How would one go about — seeing Eduardo?”

 

Beliğ first frowned, then raised her brows as her mouth formed a little  _ o.  _ “Through the madame; ask to speak to her due to having a special request, then simply ask her. Less professionally speaking, though, I’m surprised. Grown bored of the rest of us, have you?” Her tone wasn’t unkind, or even invasive, she was gently teasing him, still it made him pause and struggle to respond. 

 

“I could never,” he said, since it was what she was expecting him to say. It was what he would have said, a month or more ago. It wasn’t wholly a lie, per say — the truth being more that they weren’t enough to satisfy, and hadn’t been for a long time. Not for any fault of theirs, and not for a fault, really, of him either; simply, because he had grown to desire something else. For all the companionship in the world that he could get from any of them, they couldn’t be a companion. Not like—

 

“Just broadening your views, then?” Beliğ stilled looked amused, rather than judging. It wasn’t really so strange. If there was any group of people who wouldn’t judge another for something relating to sex, it would be prostitutes. (The safe, sane and consensual kind, at least.) It wasn’t all about sex, of course, though that was likely what most would assume it to be. He was living proof of that. 

 

“I’m always ready to try new things,” he grinned. 

 

Beliğ rolled her eyes, smiling. “Hope to God you’re still handsome when you’re older.” The  _ or you won’t be able to behave this way without punishment  _ went without saying.

 

He did. Of course he did, he was the second son, and compared to Federico and Claudia, as intelligent as a fly. Making as many friends as possible was all he could do to insure himself, which is why it was negligent of him to not be a floor down, with those friends. “Or I’ll just play it safe and make it count while it lasts.” 

 

_ Tomorrow _ , he promised himself.  _ Tomorrow, I’ll go to them _ . Being away from Leonardo for one day wouldn’t kill him, he’d done it before. A month or so ago. And he had to face his family, so at least he would be very amenable to getting drunk.

 

Then, Beliğ was opening a door and he had no choice but to follow her in. And burst out laughing for the scene before him.

 

Isabella was hunched over with her hands extended like claws, scratching the air, face contorted in fake rage with her jaw gaping open like she was a predator about to bite their enemy in the jugular. All the while Leonardo was regarding her with complete seriousness while his hand, and the stick of charcoal he was holding, flew over the paper with quick lines. As soon as Isabella noticed the intrusion her hands dropped to cover her mouth and she quickly straightened her back out, flushed with embarrassment. Beliğ just about managed to put the tray down before succumbing to a fit of giggles.

 

“Oh God,” Isabella said, muffled against her palms. She shifted her hands so that they covered her eyes as well, before hunching in on her self. This only made Beliğ laugh harder.

 

“Love, I’m sorry,” she said between peals of laughter. She went over to Isabella and wrapped her arms around her. She was easily a head taller than Isabella, and so rested her cheek on the shorter woman’s head, still shaking with amusement. “I’m so sorry, you were terribly fierce, I promise,” she said, pressing a kiss to the crown of Isabella’s head. 

 

Ezio wasn’t laughing anymore, too transfixed by the easy show of intimacy between two people he didn’t even know were friends. He turned to his own friend instead, whose lips, too, were curled with good humour, infected by Ezio and Beliğ, no doubt. 

 

“Hard at work, were you?” he teased.

 

“It is of great importance to any self-respecting artist to practice all kinds of facial expressions,” he said. 

 

“I do beg you to forgive me for my ignorance, messere, I am but a child before a master of—” Ezio pinched his nose to make his voice necessarily nasal, “—the  _ aaaaarts. _ ” 

 

Leonardo smothered a laugh before wrinkling his nose, then pinching it as well. “I’ll never forgive you,” he said. It sounded so ridiculous that Ezio began laughing even before Leonardo continued to say, “We shall have a duel to the death by dawn,” at which point he lost it completely. 

 

By the time they had both calmed down, Isabella was still red-faced, though composed, and Beliğ still had her arms around her, but around her side so that Isabella wasn’t smothered by her chest. 

 

“As much fun as you’re having here, I’m sad to say that I’ve got work,” Beliğ said. She turned her face and cradled Isabella’s face with a gentle hand, tilting her upwards so that she herself could lean down and press a lingering kiss on her lips. Leonardo emitted a strange, keening sound, whereas Ezio simply said “ _ what _ ”. “I’ll see you later tonight,” Beliğ told Isabella, softly, only meant for her ears. 

 

Isabella had, impossibly gotten redder. “I’ll see you.” Beliğ smiled, then gave her another quick kiss before pulling away.

 

“Good to see you both,” she told Ezio and Leonardo, before blowing Isabella a final kiss as she pulled the door closed behind her. 

 

Complete silence. 

 

Ezio took the bottle of ale took a swig. It went down unusually easy: he much, much preferred wine. Isabella sat down heavily on the bed, a hand held over her heart. Leonardo was just staring out into space. 

 

“This,” Ezio cleared his throat, “makes your whole,  _ Leonardo why didn’t you say anything,  _ seem a little — hypocritical.”

 

Isabella was quick to protest. “We aren’t lovers!”

 

Leonardo stared into space more intensely. 

 

Ezio, instead, sputtered. “Then what was  _ that?! _ ”

 

“We’re friends! Friends kiss their friends!”

 

“ _ On the cheek maybe! _ Not on the  _ mouth! _ ” Recalling a certain event the night before, Ezio quickly added, “At least not usually. And never for that long!  _ Or _ twice! And what do you call that whole ‘I’ll see you later tonight’? She was propositioning you!”

 

“No she  _ wasn’t! _ ” Isabella all but shrieked. 

 

Leonardo cleared his throat. “She definitely was.”

 

“She has never meant it like that before—”

 

“She’s done that multiple times?!”

 

“—and she’s kissed me before, but never anything more.”

 

Leonardo brought his fist to his mouth, opening and closing it once, twice, thrice. “You haven’t talked about it? At all?”

 

“Well, no.”

 

“Then what’s stopping you?”

 

“I,” Isabella hesitated. “Well, there’s no way she could be interested in me like that.”

 

“Fucking hell, we’re wasting time,” Ezio groaned. He went to the door for the second time in just five minutes. 

 

“Where are you going?” Leonardo and Isabella both asked in unison. 

 

“To ask Beliğ!” he said before shutting the door. On the other side, he could hear Isabella scream. He was a better runner though, and Beliğ hadn’t gotten far.

 

In the stairs, she turned her head at the sound of rapid footsteps behind her, frown on her face at the sight of Ezio’s full sprint. “What the—”

 

“Sorry, quick question, there was a bit of a debate after you left,” he said, speaking so rapidly that he was impressed by himself for not tripping over any of the syllables. “You were propositioning Isabella just now, weren’t you?”

 

Beliğ hissed at him. “Not so loud!” More quietly, “Of course I was, what else could that have been?” She looked up at the sound of a second pair of feet. Ezio, too, turned, to see Isabella run down to them. 

 

“Beliğ!” she cried. She opened her mouth to speak, but Ezio cut her off. “I was right,” he said. Her eyes widened. “No—!”

 

“Yes,” Beliğ confirmed. “Didn’t you… get what I meant?”

 

Isabella pursed her lips then looked down at her feet. “… No,” she admitted, sheepish.

 

“Well… do you accept?”

 

Isabella’s eyes widened even more. “Yes,” she said, letting the word fall out of her on an exhale. Beliğ smiled, taking Isabella’s hand to press a kiss to it.

 

“Then my words still stand.” Then, she left, Isabella staring after her with what could only be described as naked wonder on her face. What she must be feeling, Ezio thought, both with sympathy and amusement. She looked as if her greatest dream and fear had come true at once. Her gut must be rolling with the emotion, how tight her throat must feel, how quick her heartbeat, how light her head — he knew it too well, the love she must be feeling. He laid a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Come on,” he said. “You can cry back in your room.”

 

“Why would I cry,” she nearly whispered, eyes red and glassy.

 

“Joy, relief, want, love, nerves, anxiety, hope — take your pick,” he said, leading her back. She walked mechanically, watching without seeing like Leonardo so often did when overcome. “I’ve found that when we feel so much we barely know what we’re feeling, our first and natural response is to weep.” 

 

Isabella tittered, nervous and happy at once, as the first tear rolled down her cheek. Maybe it hadn’t been right to run after Beliğ without Isabella’s say-so but… sometimes, you needed a push, and he’d never seen someone so happy to have fallen before. Isabella pressed a hand to her cheek.

 

“She chose me,” she said, to herself. Best that she let all that out now, he thought. Or they wouldn’t have the time to finish later for all the emotion. 

  
“It’s not like she proposed,” he quipped. Isabella didn’t hear him, instead touching her lips where Beliğ had kissed her before.  _ Love _ , he though,  _ how it makes fools of us all.  _ At least he’d never been as oblivious as her. Thank God for that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't intend to give Isabella a gf, but the minute she walked into that room and saw Isabella apparently Beliğ grapped my hands and made me do it. 
> 
> also in this house we respect and take every opportunity to make sex workers human instead of jokes, amen. on an unrelated note i think it would be very sexy if we decriminalised sex work :)
> 
> sad news: i won't be updating next week bc i'll be in london when i'm supposed to update. good news: i'm going to london! just like actual icon Paddington!


	15. Radicchio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> author's love of swords gets thrown in the sex-ed on accident. 
> 
> I ALSO WANT A SWORD!.jpg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to justaguy (or was it justagay? lmao) who left no one, not two, but THREE extra long comments on the last chapter! first i thought uh okay did someone love this story more than expected? then i read the comments. then i laughed myself silly. then i shared it with my friend on our train to the copenhagen airport. then we laughed some more. then she said that homophobia of such extremes deserves to be made fun of as much as possible, so she sent it to our group chat and our other friends dissected it some more. i even sent it to my extremely straight brother, whose comments on the line "is this assassin's creed or rupaul's drag race?" simply replied "why can't it be both?". in honour of justagay im gonna add even more lesbians in the future, because fuck you, and thank you for the laughter i think you may have added ten years to my life with how much fun my friends and i had. 
> 
> other readers, please go back to check those comments out, particularly the last one, because while the first two contain so much bullshit i could argue myself blue in the face to refute it, the third one is just ahh.... comedy.

 

As soon as they stepped back into Isabella’s room, it was clear that no more sketching of any kind was to take place. Instead, overwhelmed by joy and shock, Isabella stumbled right to her bed and slumped down on the edge of it. Leonardo had jumped to his feet the second the door opened and wasted no time sitting down beside her. He curled an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his side in a motion that spoke of deeper friendship than either of them had alluded to; it was automatic, the need and the response, a motion made easy by the times it had been repeated, with Leonardo being in Isabella’s place and the reversed time and time again. 

 

Ezio’s friend, his best friend, now needed by someone that wasn’t him, offering comfort in a way that he had given him and been given by him not long ago, looked up, and their eyes locked. No words were said, still — no words were needed. Ezio nodded, once, and Leonardo responded with a grateful smile. 

 

Isabella’s poor door had been abused enough in such a short while, so while it was mostly for the sake of the room’s occupants, he spared the hinges a thought as he gently pushed it closed, so gently that the clock was as loud as a breath. 

 

* * *

 

Ezio hadn’t been in the corridors before that day, and had rarely ever visited the Madame’s office, but his sense of direction, knowledge of the “front” of the brothel and common sense cut a way through the strange paths easily enough. Noises grew louder as he did so, as the evening was deepening and the rooms filling up; the air grew heavy and nearly cloyed to his nose and throat along some paths, with strong perfume, oil, smoke, wine and sweat. There was laughter, there was song, there was noises not immediately identifiable, and there were the unmistakable sounds of sex, and it was all muted by the walls, floors, ceilings. As well, of course, as fabrics, hands, gags, pillows and other body parts. 

 

Then, he reached the Madame’s room, a journey that felt much longer than it had taken in reality, but then again his entire view of reality felt a bit tilted, not quite right, listing, oppressing and heady. Being behind the actions of the bordello and not part of it, being in the same building as Leonardo and his friends and so many ex-lovers and not with any of them felt as if he, himself, wasn’t present either. He was torn between them all, only truly yearning for one, but needing to be with one other, and reminded of so many past mistakes and vices by the rest, and so did not feel like he was himself, not entirely. As if he had tried to stretch himself between them all, failed, and snapped like a string pulled to far, not reaching any of them. 

 

Thankfully for his poor piece of mind, Madame Paula’s door was labelled with a plaque to let even dreamstate dwellers like him orient themselves. He knocked once, hard, then paused and knocked twice more, softened. At the no nonsense  _ come in _ , he pulled open a door that wasn’t Isabella, that didn’t hide Leonardo behind it, and that did lead him into the room where Paula was sitting behind a desk, back straight, face blank, hands crossed. 

 

“Ezio Auditore, what a pleasure.” Her voice revealed nothing. 

 

“Madame Paula, I say the same. Might I have a moment of your time?” He asked, sounding confident in a way he didn’t feel, but that he had always upheld when in the bordello’s front. 

 

“You may,” she inclined her head. 

 

“I was wondering about your guard, Eduardo.”

 

The only revelation of her surprise was her straightening up a bit further, her chin tilted up in a way that was almost impossible to notice. “I hope there has been no — disagreement?”

 

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I am asking, instead, if it would be possible for me to have a moment of conversation alone with him. I am both willing and able to compensate you and him both for your time. Naturally.”

 

“That shouldn’t be difficult to arrange. In fact, I will summon him now, then I am sure that he can find the two of you somewhere more private for your discussion.”

 

“I am much obliged, Madame.” There was no insult to be taken from his manners, not even the slightest thing to criticise. Mother would be proud (if horrified by the context). 

 

It took her but a minute to return, with Eduardo a step behind her. He towered over her in hight, even as he was clearly under her thumb entirely, and was much taller than Ezio. When he had only ever seen him stand in the other side of the room, it had been difficult to notice. Here, he felt like he had just been robbed of the upper-hand. 

 

“Ezio Auditore,” Eduardo greeted, bowing deeply, letting his curtain of black hair fall like ink across his face. “It is an honour. We haven’t been formally  introduced — I am Eduardo Alfonsi.”

 

“Good to meet you,” Ezio said, merely bowing his head. “Has Madame Paula informed you of my request?”

 

“She has. Would you like to take this conversation somewhere more private?”

 

“I would, though I let the choice fall on your shoulders.”

 

Eduardo inclined his head and swept his arm out, as if unveiling some theatrical spectacle, rather than a simple door. “Then, if you would be so kind as to follow me.”

 

Then, they were moving. The lights were low, now, burning not as hot as they could have, to add the air of mystery and sensuality to the brothel, even if it had never needed it, providing plenty on its own by the simple fact of what it was. Still, the shadows they cast along the walkways, catching in the groves of the stone, bouncing off the tar black head of the man before him, Ezio felt as if he was being dragged down into the underworld. Never before has he felt such a way in La Rosa Colta, never before had he felt his stomach flip with nerves, never before had he not known what to expect from the end of a walk like this. 

 

Eduardo didn’t look back, not even once; confident, apparently, that Ezio would follow and keep up, that this was important enough to not even speak before back behind closed doors. There were no more pleasantries, no more offered platitudes. Ezio knew, naturally, that Eduardo in turn knew why Ezio had sought him. Quick steps and a straight back, head high — he was surprised, but undeniably pleased. Cocky, even. 

 

It was a look Ezio had worn more often than not. 

 

The light grew stronger and the noise equally so — before he knew it, Eduardo held out his arm to stop Ezio from going further, and Ezio only barely managed to not knock into him. 

 

“What is it?” he asked, annoyed at having to look around Eduardo to see. However, doing so he realised that they had come upon one of the entrances into the hallway from the main space in the brothel. The place where all the large staircases were, the lounging couches, tables and the women were before they could lead a customer somewhere else. He heard laughter, raucous and almost fake, more akin to cackles than anything of real mirth. 

 

“Your friends are just around the corner,” Eduardo said, voice low. Ezio froze, straining his ears to see if he could catch their conversation. “Considering the nature of our meeting, I suppose that you don’t want to be seen in my —  _ esteemed _ company.” Oh, Ezio could hear that smirk. Eduardo was just, simply put, too full of himself to be attractive. Was this what he sounded like to other people? 

 

Opposites must indeed attract, because on Eduardo, Ezio only felt as if the sleaze, the self assuredness, covered the two of them like oil slick. All they needed was a spark to blow to high heaven. 

 

Eduardo tilted his head to the side, just as Ezio caught his name in the air. 

 

_ “— not fair, haven’t seen him in forever. He can’t still be moping, can he?” _

_ “‘course not, it’s Ezio! And you saw his mother, I bet he’s just chained to his room by his balls.” _

_ “But we haven’t seen him  _ here _ though, does he have someone new, then?” _

_ “Maybe he got sloppy and someone’s husband chopped his cock off.” _

_ “Or his  _ head _ , I haven’t seen that part anywhere either, you know —” _

 

“Charming,” Eduardo said. Ezio barely managed to shut up, because as much as he despised the tone, he was chagrined to realise that he did, in part, agree. There was a reason for why he preferred socialising while drunk. They could have said much worse, them speculating about his maybe-castration was not too much to handle. 

 

“More girls have taken the floor,” Eduardo then said, straightening. “They seem to have caught your friends’ interest.” He let his arm fall, stepping forward to take a glance into the entranceway. “Come, take my right side,” he said, waving a hand for Ezio to walk next to him, providing at least a partial cover for anyone looking their way. Two meters felt like two hundred and he even felt his hands get clammy the short while they risked recognition. 

 

He would never have been so stressed about it all, if not for the man he was with, and if not for the man a few stories above that had taken permanent residence in his mind and consideration. 

 

Before long, though, Eduardo’s surprisingly soft hand guided him in through a door with a firm grip. It was darkest so far in it, until Eduardo lit a yellow lantern that cast long shadows in the gloom. Standing above it, having just lit it, the shadows made Eduardo’s face look like a skull. Good; it distracted from the chin. 

 

“Mind if I sit?” Eduardo asked. 

 

“It’s your room, do what you want. I don’t care.”

 

His only response was an eyebrow and a saunter to the bed, rather than the multiple, unusually comfortably looking chairs. His room was unusual in and of itself, being clearly made to look like a permanent living space, but still decorated enough and with the amenities of the other rooms meant only for entertainment. Isabella was unusual in truly having a room for her own, due to her being only a dancer and not a sex worker, which meant that she wouldn’t entertain where she lived. There were not enough rooms for the other women to have proper flats and a room to entertain, so instead they slept and worked in the same place, and were forced to let the rooms be as impersonal as possible. Eduardo’s struck a delicate balance between not officially being employed and housed as a prostitute, and so needing to pass for only a living space if a stranger’s prying eyes found its way by – and, of course, acting as the prostitute he truly was. 

 

“Going by your  _ attitude _ ,” Eduardo said wryly, “I guess you’re not here to sheath your sword anywhere.”

 

“Congrats, you’re right,” Ezio said, deciding to drape himself over the most comfortable of the comfortably looking chairs. 

 

“Hah,” Eduardo said, deadpan, “Then what  _ do _ you want to talk about?”

 

“Sword sheathing, as you said. I would like to learn the process.”

 

Eduardo laughed, a sharp and unkind sound. “You know, I’ve found that practice in this case makes perfect.”

 

Ezio scoffed. “I don’t want to practice it with  _ you _ , thanks.”

 

Eduardo had the decency to look surprised before he threw his head back and laughed. Ezio crossed his arms and waited for the other man to gather himself. 

 

“No offence meant, though I’m sure the sentiment isn’t shared,” Eduardo said, “It’s simply hilarious to me that we have never held a conversation before and for some reason, you already hate me. It can’t be because of my work because excuse me for assuming, but you don’t seem the type.” He was clearly fishing for some sort of answer there, but Ezio chose to stare instead, until Eduardo leaned back with a resigned sigh. “Like I thought. No, instead, I assume this is personal, in some way?”

 

He must have twitched wrong, or done something with his face, because Eduardo quickly raised his brows in a show of understanding and he leaned forward again, elbows braced on his thighs. 

 

“Considering what I’ve heard about you and Vespucci’s affair, I should have pegged you for the jealous type.”

 

God let him  _ rest _ , did everyone know about that? For all the bemoaning that he couldn’t let her go, they made it impossible by reminding him of her at every turn. Did they delight in torturing him with her? He had first thought it was about her, not him, about them belatedly showing the interest in her they’d had no hope in realising and taking out the quashing of their final shred of hope by teasing him for his heartbreak — for something they would never have the opportunity to have. Now, though, more and more, each reminder of her and his own reaction made him believe that the simplest answer was true; they thought it was pathetic to care enough about a lover so as to be devastated when torn apart. 

 

Maybe that was a bit much to say, with how romance was the foremost inspiration for all art, with how important love was to faith, family and God. A bit cynical, even, of him. Pessimistic. He didn’t have any desire to be proven right, but they all tried their best. Romantic feelings are emasculating, dear Ezio, you should know better. You should be the passionate lover, not submitting beloved. On the prowl, rather than hunted. Sex was a game, and love a sport, may best man win. He hadn’t won. 

 

Eduardo, though… 

 

He was just a bastard, and not at all one akin to Leonardo. Eduardo was biting back against Ezio’s own insults, which was fair enough, it was simply unfortunate that his choice of attack would be so — base. 

 

There was something to be said, about Leonardo’s observations on the art of insults. 

 

“Usually, I don’t have to be jealous,” Ezio smiled with stiff lips and jaw, “Which makes my reaction all the more severe whenever life turns on the odds, I’m afraid.”

 

“I think you  _ are  _ afraid,” Eduardo said, “but not of that. You’re here, with me, in secrecy and at our and the Madame’s discretion, to what? Learn how to fuck men? Nah. Or, well, yes, except you don’t want to practice with me, which tells me that you don’t want to fuck  _ men.  _ Not really, or at least not right now. You’re thinking about a man, singular.”

 

Chills went down his spine against his best efforts, and he had to restrain himself from shuddering. The accusation felt heavy in its truth, even though Ezio himself hadn’t even considered it yet. 

 

“Maybe I just don’t like you,” he said. Eduardo smiled, a bit lopsided, twisted, much like his sense of humour. 

 

“Because of someone I had before you even had the chance to, right? It’s alright, you can pull a face. I won’t pry, but we both know that I know the truth. Is having other women so difficult for you now after your little breakup that none of them will do?”

 

“Keep talking about Cristina Vespucci,” Ezio said, clipped through his teeth, fingertips buried into the chair’s arms like claws, “and I’m leaving. You like money, right? Shut up about her or you won’t get any. Make fun of my sleeping around all you want, make fun of me taking so long to realise that men look good to, but don’t.  _ Touch  _ the subject of my relationship with Cristina Vespucci. The rumours won’t tell you any truths and you won’t get anything from me except your own ruin. Attack  _ me _ . Don’t touch her.”

 

Eduardo’s reaction could not be described as either anger, fear or shock to any extent or kind. Rather, it was a look of deep respect that crossed his face, and he leaned back again, fully this time, and relaxed. As if Ezio had passed a test somehow, and Eduardo had been the only one to know he was taking it. The self satisfied sir of before lingered in part, but the insufferable air had dissipated to an extent. 

 

“Very well,” he said. “Let’s talk sword-sheathing. I find it easier if you would begin with what you know.”

 

Ezio cleared his throat, as if to alleviate the still there tension of but seconds before. “It’s not much, beyond what can also be done by a woman. Fellatio, hands, those things. It is the — sheathing, and the requirement for it, that elude me.”

 

“Right then,” Eduardo said, “Let’s make you a little uncomfortable, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

Some things were of no surprise. That stretching would be required, as well as aid in the form of oil, hadn’t been hard to guess at. That it didn’t have to be painful, however, or that it could even be immensely pleasurable if one hit the “sweet spot” within, were news. Welcome news. The cleaning necessary was a bit of a bummer, but it made sense, considering that body part’s… other functions. It would make penetration a whole day/night affair to make the effort worth it. Ezio welcomed the challenge. 

Once speaking of something purely factual, Eduardo was down right professional. He sounded like a teacher, voice without inflection, facts delivered without garnish, with space for “questions?”  

 

Ezio only had to lean back and listen and memorise, and inwardly curse at not having brought anything to take notes with. Not that he would need it, he had already committed everything perfectly to memory, but more so that he could know what to do with his hands while sitting still. They shifted from his lap, to the chair, to rest across his chest, to wring at his neck, to pick at his nails, to brush his fringe away from his eyes. 

 

“So unless you want to go into specifics regarding technique, that’s all there is,” Eduardo was saying. “And from what I’ve heard, that part will come naturally to you.”

 

They were at his nails again, picking at the skin by one of them. “You flatter me.”

 

“You looked like you needed it.” The light had burned low in one of the lamps, and the shadows moved. “Anything else, while you’re here?”

 

“No,” Ezio stood, brushing his hands at his trousers to do away with dust that wasn’t there. “Thank you.” He withdrew from his pouch what he would normally pay one of the women, and while Eduardo raised his brows, there was no protest. Likely, they had each assumed a different price. Likely, Eduardo’s had been lower, as he offered no comment. Ezio couldn’t bring himself to haggle. He instead left the coins on the nearest table. 

 

“I’ll see myself out,” he said, turning his back on Eduardo. 

 

“Give Leonardo my love,” Eduardo called behind him. 

 

Ezio’s fingers clamped down hard on the door’s handle. 

 

“You listen to too much gossip,” he said. “A bad habit.”

 

“I’ve plenty of those.”

 

Ezio still didn’t turn around. “That much is clear.” There were no more sounds until he had closed the door behind him, not after. Only those of his own breaths, and the steady beating of his heart. The other sounds, from a wall away, from the revelry that had seemed so loud before, was gone from his focus. There was only him. 

 

It seemed to happen all at once, and he could not tell how long it took, but when the noises from around him finally became clear again, they did so in one storm wave. Again, he was reminded of what had once been his greatest satisfactions. Again, he was reminded of the company he was neglecting, of the image he didn’t much care to maintain any longer. Again, he was reminded of that he was now outside, looking in, instead of in the centre, and he couldn’t pinpoint when that had ceased to bother him. 

 

He could go to them. Tell them he had sneaked out. It wouldn’t be the first time. That door wasn’t closed to him, except of his own volition. He could open it again, and would be welcomed into the fold. 

 

He could go back upstairs, but he feared that he hadn’t been gone nearly long enough for Leonardo and Isabella to have talked things out fully. He wanted, more than anything, to go to who had unknowingly become one of his greatest sources of stability, to sit next to him, rest his head against his and listen to some nonsense, it didn’t matter what. He hoped Isabella was alright, and not angry at him having forced her hand. Sometimes, that was what was needed, when one refused to communicate clearly on one’s own. An outside perspective needed to give things a kick. But if it was appreciated, or even necessary, really, was difficult to tell beforehand. He hoped he had judged things correctly. 

 

Eduardo had, but that didn’t mean that the kick didn’t still jostle him and his haphazardly maintained mental balance.

 

No, instead… he wondered if Aurelia was done yet. She would undoubtedly welcome the news of Isabella’s planned — meeting.   Now, to try and navigate the maze on his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought i'd do us all a favour and skip the sex-ed, i know i for one have had enough of it after five years of it in school. bienvenue en Suède and all that, here you literally have to go to the youth clinic with class at least once and you're not allowed to leave until you grab at least one condom. the age of consent is 15 but the number of people with untreated or dangerous STDs and STIs are low and the amount of teen pregnancies even lower. oh tip to my fellow wlw: buy condoms not dental dams! they're cheaper but made of the same stuff so just take a condom and cut it with scissors instead. yes i learned that in class. 
> 
> if you spotted any mistakes, please let me know! i didn't edit this as closely as i usually do bc i looked so much forward to putting something out. next time i update, i'll have moved out of my parents' house and started uni!!! 
> 
> also the two of you who left comments besides justaguy on the last chapter i love you, thank you so much, i would have replied but your comments accidentally got buried under those of Mayor Clown of Straight Guy Town.


	16. sugar beets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Young love and all that, it makes you stupid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two days late, here i am. i moved away from home, living in a student corridor atm, which means i have my own flat w a bathroom but share a kitchen w eight other students, they're great neighbours i love them. i started uni, i hate numismatics, i joined a cool club w archaeologists with the motto "our future lies in ruins!" bc ha. pun. automatic fave. also joined a gang of marxists bc i'm like daphne kluger in ocean's 8. "you joined [a marxist group] because you're lonely?" "i'm new in town and thought it was a good way to meet new people." i have way more new friends among the archaeologists and ortologists though. i have to read a huge fkn amount for my line of study (ancient society and culture in the mediterranean area), around 40 pages a day at least. so the fact that this chapter exists is a miracle. it's also completely unedited! but i don't think you'll mind considering wwhat happens ;)

Ezio had no idea where he was. Or, correction, he had an idea of where he was, but no way of knowing which room Aurelia was in. The times he had hired her she hadn’t always entertained him in the same room, and even then he couldn’t remember exactly which rooms he had been to. Having thoroughly squashed any hope of finding her on his own, he decided to ask for help. The easiest way to do that would have been to go to the salon where all of the girls were — as well as his friends, who he were all avoiding, so that was a no. His second idea was to go to the kitchen and ask the women there, which was more doable. He even found the kitchen, and only took a wrong turn once! The kitchen, though, was empty, because of course it was, because God was fucking with him that day. His third idea was to ask the Madame, but he dismissed that idea immediately, since he wasn’t looking for Aurelia for anything related to business, really, and he refused to involve her and cause a ruckus trying to find Aurelia for strictly personal reasons. 

 

That left one option. God was  _ really  _ fucking with him. 

 

“Back so soon?” Eduardo, the smug bastard, smiled in an exaggeratedly sanguine manner, all but dripping with honey. It was nauseating, and by the look in his eyes, he was aware of it. Leaning against the door frame on one shoulder, arm on his hip, Ezio was even irritated with himself for his first reaction being one of appreciation for the other man’s muscular arms, visible by the strain of fabric around his biceps. Thankfully, Ezio only had to look at the man’s chin to recover his senses. 

 

Ezio made sure to look unimpressed. “I’d like you to do something for me.” Then, after that has caused Eduardo to leer and look him up and down, he added, “ _ not that _ , I just can’t find Aurelia, and I can’t go out on the floor. I need you to ask around for me, to see where she is.”

 

Eduardo scoffed. He looked quickly to the left, then right down the corridor to see that they were alone. “Did our lesson turn you off men so soon?” To check that he was safe to mock him. Joy. 

 

“No, your face did that.” That just made Eduardo laugh, rather than offend him. “Will you do it?”

 

Eduardo wordlessly held out a hand, palm up. Sighing, Ezio withdrew a coin from his pouch and put it in his waiting hand, which Eduardo snatched back the very moment the coin touched his skin. “Wait in my room, I’ll be back soon.”

 

Ezio went to walk past him into the room, but was unexpectedly blocked entry by Eduardo’s hand on his chest. Irritation was, unlike any other kind of fury, a cold thing, that made him freeze and lock his jaw and fix his eyes to the offending hand, looking to the world as if he had stopped in conceit of the hand — while really, he had stopped because he wanted to  _ rip it off. _

 

“You know, if my face’s the only thing that’s an issue with you,” Eduardo said and  _ God  _ he hated how Eduardo had to lean down to do so, it made him feel so… small. Ezio looked up just to see Eduardo’s leering face before he continued with, “You could always just take me from behind.”

 

Ezio might have thrown up a little in his mouth. “No, I respect myself too much for that.” With a condescending little smile, he brushed Eduardo’s hand away from his chest like one would brush away dirt. Instead of being offending though, the bastard kept on laughing, before leaving him there without as much as a “see you”. 

 

The man had to have two faces, because there was no way Leonardo would have fucked the same one Ezio had seen. Or, a more depressing theory, he had been desperate for anyone that wouldn’t immediately betray him to the police. 

 

Now alone, the petty side of Ezio wanted to wreck Eduardo’s room as revenge. The saner side wanted to root through his things and hopefully find something embarrassing he could make fun of with Aurelia later. He guessed Aurelia hated him, but even if she didn’t, there was no doubt that she would be enthusiastic about any mean gossip at all. She was, at least, honest enough to admit that she talked shit about everyone (she just didn’t do it in equal amounts, some were naturally deserving of more or less shit. All that was left up to guesswork was how much shit she considered  _ you  _ to be). 

 

His saner side won out and he wasted not a second to look everything over. He trailed his fingers across the chairs, the fabric of his duvet and blankets, pillows, drawing a line along the grain of the wood of the tables, to see how Eduardo’s room  _ felt.  _ The smell was unimpressive, only stale from a lack of airing, more dust than what was usual, the natural scent of burning wax candles and — olive oil? Why would  _ Oh right.  _ It only took Ezio a few minutes to completely erase the function of olive oil Eduardo himself had explained. He cheerfully did what he could to repress why Eduardo’s room would smell of olive oil and moved on. 

 

The walls were boringly bare, with only light sconces as decoration. The patterns of all fabrics and rugs were standard, and rather dull in their colour scheme. With the personality he had showcased, Ezio would usually think of violent colours, vibrant and loud. Maybe it was chosen with a purpose, to look more like a guard’s room than a courtesan's — except that was very much not a bed made for one single person to just lay flat on their back, so that guess was unlikely to be true. 

 

It was a courtesan’s room, only, it was a courtesan without any personality, no sort of personal touch to give even a hint of Eduardo’s character based only on his living quarters… except for what looked like a few books and some papers on the desk. It was very nearly nothing, but only nearly. 

 

It wasn’t nearly nothing. He only had to see an edge of the second paper in the pile to see how  _ not nothing  _ it was, because he would recognise that sketching anywhere: Leonardo’s. Leonardo’s careful, meticulous eye for detail that partnered so well with his rounded strokes, shapes, sweeping of the  pencil across paper. With his ability, the identity of the model was also inescapable. Eduardo had been drawn, in lack of a better word,  _ lovingly _ , half asleep with his face sideways on his pillow and his arms folded underneath it, the sheets having ridden down low enough to reveal his entire side in profile. His lithe back and strong arms, the sheets pooled around his hips. His hair was mussed and though he did look asleep by how he was laying, one eye was ever so slightly open to gaze at the viewer in fondness, and his lips curved at the top to make it all the more clear. 

 

Nothing at all like how he had drawn the women, not even those he called friends. Much more like how he had drawn Ezio when he had gotten him to sit still — and even then, more. The same tenderness was there, but the intimacy of the position, the near domesticity of  _ sleeping together  _ versus just having sex, the suggestion of what had preceded the sleep, of what had so beautifully tousled his hair… was overwhelming. For a brief moment, he wanted to tear the picture apart and let the shreds fall to the floor and he immediately felt disgusted with himself. That he would consider destroying a gift, however briefly, however unworthy he considered the recipient, made by Leonardo with care and freely given, sickened him. 

 

Jealousy tasted a lot like bile. It suffocated him so thoroughly that once Eduardo returned, Ezio could barely spend the energy to look at him, much less continue with the barely restrained hostility he had harboured before. Ezio felt the hot coals of shame roll deep in his belly, for he knew that if Leonardo had seen the way he had acted, he would be disappointed — and more generally, unhappy. They hadn’t discussed it before, but Ezio could tell, by his friend’s character, that to him, jealousy would be considered a deeply ugly thing. 

 

And so Eduardo returned, told him where to go, and, to Ezio’s chagrin, when he just nodded and said his thanks and made to leave, Eduardo held him back by laying a hand on his shoulder. That seemed to be a bad habit of Eduardo, and just one more thing to add to his mental list of reasons he  _ sucked.  _

 

“I just wanted to say, I don’t actually know Leonardo all that well,” Eduardo began. Yeah,  _ or rather, Leonardo doesn’t know you well enough to see you’re an ass _ , “but you don’t have to, to understand that he is one of the most intelligent men you will ever meet. Still, though, considering how clever he is… he can be a bit of an idiot when it comes to other people’s feelings towards him. Or really, he’s got a blind spot concerning anything to do with himself, that isn’t just him being his own worst critic. Doesn’t matter how obvious you think you are with some things, most often you have to spell it out for him, or he won’t see it.” He sounded uncharacteristically earnest and well-meaning, and clearly thought he was imparting some great wisdom and advice to Ezio — except it came out of nowhere, and he didn’t see any reason for that to be of any particular importance. He and Leonardo already had a good rapport and knew each other well, what did he mean ‘spell it out for him’?

 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

 

Eduardo clapped him on the shoulder. “I think you know. Good luck.”

 

And then he was gone, again, behind closed doors, and Ezio was left alone with trying to figure out whatever he had meant. 

 

* * *

 

Aurelia was where Eduardo had said she would be, at least, and let Ezio in right after he knocked. She was a mess, to put it politely, with stray hair sticking to her forehead with sweat and one of her buns falling apart, the kohl around her eyes smudged and her dress was barely on at all, and looked rumpled as well as sweat-stained.

 

“Hi virgin,” she said, sounding like someone who had just recovered from exercise,  not really panting and out of breath, but not yet tired, instead only vibrating with leftover energy. “Come in, I heard you were looking for me.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you’re omniscient, at this point,” he said. 

 

“Oh, absolutely. The oracle of Delphi had nothing on me,” she grinned. “Hope you aren’t here for business reasons, ‘cause I have to tell you, the last one I left for a bit to talk to you and lover-boy was  _ intense!  _ So I need a good bath before I can work again, but if you’re just here to talk, I’m fine. Sit down, for God’s sake, you’re making me nervous — here,” she said, then all but shoved him into a loveseat before curling up in the opposite end of it, herself. She was speaking unusually fast too, what with all her energy, so much so that it felt like he was getting dragged behind a speeding horse and was barely holding on. 

 

“Same person who told me that told me that you were with Eduardo, ‘cause it was him doing the asking, really so I have to know  _ wow _ , I thought you said you and loverboy were exclusive, what happened to that? Or was it for something else? You have to tell me or I’m just going to guess and that won’t end well. That, and why you’re here ‘cause the only person I have gossip about right now that’s relevant to you is gossip about you, so I don’t get what you want from me? Unless you’re doing some great victory tour and just had sex with Eduardo and now want it with me even though I’m gross right now, because Leonardo gave you one last night of freedom or whatever to do whoever you want. Please don’t let that be why, ‘cause my expectations for you are already low but that would be even lower than that.”

 

“Uhm.” He paused. Aurelia’s eyes were… exceptionally bright looking. And round, right then. Like an owl’s. “No, I just wanted you to know that  Beliğ and Isabella are together. And that I would shoot my own foot with a crossbow before I had sex with Eduardo. That’s all.”

 

Aurelia’s eyes boggled out of her head. “Oh, that’s all? That’s  _ all _ ? No, it’s definitely not a big deal that Isabella finally got her head out of the clouds to see what’s in front of her, not at all! God damn, how did that happen? Points, by the way, for not playing dirty with Leonardo. He would tell you that something like that was okay, to make someone else happy, but no way would it not break his heart.”

 

He flashed her a lopsided grin and tried to respond with humour he didn’t feel. “I’ll keep that in mind. And what happened was that  Beliğ flirted and then when she left, I asked Isabella about it and she seemed surprised about it.  _ Oblivious  _ is not strong enough a word for her. So I went after Beliğ, asked if she had been flirting for real and Isabella caught us in time to hear it, so they set up a date. Simple as that.”

 

Aurelia was silent and her eyes impossibly wider as she took it in, before she let out a shriek of joy and launched herself at Ezio to curl her arms around his neck with the strength of a vice. “You blunt bastard!” she shrieked again. “Well  _ done _ ! I’ve been doing what I can trying to give them both hints and suggestions but I think they know me so well that they both just thought I wasn’t serious, or that I was teasing them. Which I was, to be fair, but still, Isabella especially needed a shove — and Beliğ needed to be clear! God, I wish more people would just talk more, instead of just sighing and going argh, why can’t they read my mind, you know? That’s what you and Leonardo did, right? Talk about your feelings?”

 

Technically, they had. “Yeah.” He sighed. “ _ Yeah _ , I just…” Just, what? He could barely string a coherent thought together for just himself to hear, let alone try to express it. 

 

Aurelia knitted her brows in confusion, seating herself further away again. Suddenly, thanks to just that bit of personal space regained, he could breathe a little easier, and took a deep breath to center himself. “I don’t know — what I’m trying to say.”

 

“That’s alright, I get it. I won’t be mean about whatever it is.”

 

He snorted. “Hasn’t stopped you before.”

 

Aurelia made an offended noise. “I’m not mean about insecurities, you fucking virgin. Like, I wouldn’t call an  _ actual  _ virgin ‘virgin’, see? I make fun to be funny, and if someone deserve it. Which most men who come here do. You should have seen the guy before; he’s married, so I you know. Insinuated that he’s so bad his wife can’t be bothered with him, and that’s why he has to come here and pay. And hey, that just motivated him to prove me wrong, which made things more fun for him. Everybody wins. But I won’t be a bitch about — whatever it is. But can I guess?”

 

He paused, then shrugged. She wasn’t Leonardo, by any means, though he surmised that she could most likely guess a fair bit of it, and maybe even vocalise what he couldn’t. For as great as Leonardo was, he wasn’t so good with truly analysing people. Getting them to like him, and open up, yes. Knowing specifically what was up, and what they were thinking? No. Unfair to make him compete with someone who quite literally worked with people, even if only in his head, but still. 

 

Aurelia straightened her posture, then narrowed her eyes a bit as she gazed at Ezio, even tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. “Something happened with Eduardo. He’s a dick, so it could be something he said, but then you’d just be angry, right? So it’s got something to do with him, and Leonardo, ‘cause that’s when you started stuttering, but it’s not something he said. Something he… did? No, it’s — you’re jealous. Aren’t you?” She blinked. “Well that’s a pretty hypocritical coming from you, asshole. Every girl here knows your name and what you look like naked. Except Isabella and the madame, but whatever. That why you feel bad? ‘Cause you know it’s shitty of you?”

 

He winced. “Partially, yeah. But, I don’t know, I could handle it when Eduardo was just making fun of me, but then I saw this — picture Leonardo sketched of him and it got me thinking what if…” Ezio buried his head in his hands, groaning. Why, why,  _ why _ should he care if Leonardo might have been young and just a little dumb enough to fall in love with a prostitute, especially if it was over enough for Leonardo to not think about it anymore? Why did he have to care about who Leonardo may or may not have had feelings for? Or even the possibility of them having been close friends? It obviously wasn’t true anymore, at least, if it had ever been. Still his first reaction had been to tear the evidence of that apart, as if he was the only one allowed to have Leonardo’s attention, as if he was the only one allowed to be so close to him, as if Leonardo was  _ his _ , rather than his own goddamn person. As if he wanted to  _ possess _ him, rather than

 

be with him. Oh, fuck.

 

An arm wound its way across his back in a soothing half-embrace, as Aurelia’s other hand came to clasp his bicep. He could smell her sweat and rose-perfume and makeup, and even under that, lavender soap, and for the moment it was what brought him back from the brink and saved him from his own head, that familiar presence of someone who knew him, but didn’t know him well enough to be dangerous. At that moment, too, he understood that so did she. 

 

She confirmed as much. “Look, it’s fine, it’s fine to be a mess. Young love and stuff, I get it. Love is never easy, and the younger you are the harder it is.” She patted his back once, twice. “You obviously love him a lot, that’s bound to be a little overwhelming. As long as you’re not taking it out on him or his exes, you’re gonna be fine. Whatever bad thoughts you have, it’ll get better as long as you continue not to act on them.” She let out a little laugh, strangely self-deprecating to be coming from her, then a little pause as he could hear her swallow. “Speaking from experience.”

 

He barely heard that last part, as the rest of her words hit him like stones, falling from a caved in church roof, like God delivered vengeance, the impact of each stone leaving him reeling, with gaping wounds in his sanity and what he had believed of himself up to a few moments ago shattered and fell apart. It’s stupid, so stupid, how he could be completely convinced of one thing and not even know it until the realisation of how wrong he had been came all at once and left nothing but dust in its wake. 

 

_ Sunshine reflected on bright hair, eyes matching they sky they were tracked to, the soothing familiarity and cadence of a voice, afternoons getting nothing important done while in each other’s company and feeling nothing but satisfied anyway, tears in the night and gaping emotional wounds left open for each other to see as they held nothing but trust for one another, dumb,  _ dumb _ jokes, the sound of coal scratching against paper, thyme, wood smoke, callused hand in hand pulling him up, tiles at their back, rain left on the floor, gentle and knowing hands checking bandage, a sardonic eyebrow lifted like so, wine on his tongue, nothing but understanding, security, the ugly little snort that so often came before the full belly laughter that made him look years younger, the hurried and wide-eyed rapid-fire explanations of things that made perfect sense to him and no one else, the joy with which he took in the world, pink doublets and ridiculous plumes, the anatomy sketches he still wasn’t really sure of how he knew how to do them and didn’t really want to ask about, intelligent conversations and questions he hadn’t known to ask, shattering revelations that made this one almost pale in comparison, those damn freckles, “I should like to fly” — _

 

Peals of laughter bubbled their way out of Ezio’s throat as he pressed a fist against his mouth, still doubled over, still with Aurelia right above him, her unknowing of the secret he already hated to keep a secret that had only just then been revealed to himself. He coiled himself even tighter together as he just laughed, stomach flipping over and his cheeks beginning to hurt from his grin. 

 

“I love him,” he finally gasped out, then laughed some more about that fact, and that he could  _ say _ it, at least there, at least to someone who might understand, and who didn’t judge. “I love him so much.” Tears were rolling down his aching cheeks and he didn’t have a single thought to stop them. “Oh my God. Oh  _ God,  _ I  _ love  _ him!” He loved him, he loved him, he loved him. Later, the truth of it would weigh him down. Later, he might not only cry in happiness at how it felt to be so alive. Later, he would despair. Later, the self-pity would set its teeth in him. Then and there, he was alive, he was in love. “I love him.” And that was all there was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE DID IT! WE DID IT! A THOUSAND YEARS LATER, EZIO'S HEAD IS FIRMLY OUT OF HIS ASS! and it only took him 69k ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) words!!


	17. Figs and Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the best laid plans are the most fun to blow out of the water. 
> 
> or,  
> Leo for the first 16 chapters: no i'm shy  
> Leo here: i recognise that the author had a plan but given that it is a stupid ass plan i've elected to ignore it and grab the bull by the horn. Yes that is a euphemism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notice the changed rating......... and make of that what you will... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) DON'T READ THIS AT WORK! OR IN PUBLIC! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
> 
> the influx of super sweet lovely comments gave me an unexpected (but very welcome) burst of willingness to write. so here you go. there's still a lot of this fic to go (this is definitely going to be over 100k... *sobs*) but we've hit an important milestone. four chapters earlier than planned.... scream
> 
> i have a sort of unofficial playlist for this that isn't very well thought out beyond "this feels right" and the first song on it is the unofficial soundtrack to this whole shitshow sooo.... [go crazy](https://open.spotify.com/user/kimg-crowley/playlist/2BX8dVoxLsSn5j9BFvea5e?si=f5PSA_lrTwSzwYYgTniemg)
> 
> go make yourselves a cup of cocoa, or tea or just a glass of water, because this is a. long. Long chapter. and there isn't really a good place to take a break, so ARE YA READY KIDS?????

_ “I’ve told you so many times-“ _

 

_ “Yes, told me! Darling, sweetheart, beautiful, treasure, love—“ _

 

_ “I meant so many times that I’ve told you I love you, because I do! I love you, so much!” _

 

_ “The Great Ezio Auditore da fucking Firenze, actually tells a woman that he loves her, but did you have the guts to ask me to marry you? If you love me so much, why didn’t you ever even   _ think _ about asking me?!” _

 

_ ”You never told me you wanted that!” _

 

_ ”I tried, and you wouldn’t listen! Oh, don’t talk about the future, Cristina, don’t be so serious, Cristina, let’s just have fun – well, we had our fun! I’m grown up now, an adult, and that means I’m not just responsible for myself. What I do doesn’t just reflect on myself, and you may have the luxury to fool around for decades before settling down but I don’t! This is my chance to make something of myself, and to have a choice in who I become, and I’m taking it. I’m getting married, nothing you say now can change that.” _

 

_ “That’s—I love you, but marriage isn’t about love! It’s about... finances, contracts.” _

 

_ “It’s about security! That you won’t just run off in case someone else catches your interest, or that you won’t abandon me immediately when times get tough! Or that when I’m old and grey and no corset on earth can save my tits from sagging you won’t leave me for another pretty face!” _

 

_ “You know I would never betray you like that!” _

 

_ “No I  _ don’t _ , Ezio! That’s the whole point, I don’t! I love you and I don’t doubt that you love me, but you love yourself and your perception of what freedom means more than you could ever love me. I like what we have had, Ezio. I like our now. But I would like to have a future, too. Marriage is that for me. An unwedded future isn’t a viable one, not for me. It would bring way more pain and suffering than it would be worth.”  _

 

_ “Then why didn’t  _ you _ ask me?” _

 

_ “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you wouldn’t have gotten scared if I did!” _

 

_ “… I can’t.” _

 

_ “Then don’t you dare get angry at my fiancé just because he had the guts to ask what you never could!” _

 

* * *

 

He was in love. He was in love and this time, he meant it. He was in love and the world didn’t stop going, people kept walking, working, sleeping, eating, talking as if nothing had changed, following the street, the beaten path. Above them, someone cried out, swept up in their own world, that didn’t extend beyond that room. In the parlour his friends were laughing, drinking, unknowing, unconcerned, with what he had just learned. Women made the rounds, dispersing drinks, flirting, guessing if the patron would be good for the money or not, if they would be safe or not, and nothing was more important than that, nothing he did mattered to them, would affect them.

 

It hit him that he was in love. And nobody knew. Only he. Up until a moment ago, not even he. Sure, Aurelia was beside him still, but she didn’t  _ know _ that up until a moment ago, he hadn’t. She didn’t see why this knowledge could shatter him so, even with joy as it was. She knew, but she didn’t  _ know. _ His entire life had changed and he was just white noise to them, the people around them, to her, the person two floors above him who had changed his entire world, but was then only concerned with taking care of a friend. His world had been turned upside down, he was in LOVE and they didn’t know! He wanted to cry, so he did. He wanted to cry out with joy, and so he did. He wants to break out into a sprint, climb the nearest tower and shout it to the world, so instead he curled in on himself tighter, clung to the embrace Aurelia had him in tighter.. I am in love, he would say. I am in love with the sun, and he doesn’t know! He would wake up tomorrow morning to the same sky, the same sun, the same street, he would walk along, evenly paced with the world around him, the world that kept turning, and nothing would have changed except for him. He was in love and nobody knew. 

 

Aurelia was a fine host; when Ezio had at last straightened himself out and was simply sniffling without the tears, she disappeared and quickly re-appeared offering a handkerchief, then sat quietly by his side until he had fully composed himself.

 

“Thank you,” he finally said, voice still husky with emotion. He could guess that his eyes were still red and glistening, too, with as swollen as they felt. “God. I’ve done more crying these last few days than I have in a lifetime.”

 

“You’re fine, loverboy. A bit of window cleaning for the soul, crying,” Aurelia said, wetly. Looking at her, Ezio noticed that her eyes were glimmering too, and tinted red. He wondered if she had felled a tear too, and he had been too busy to notice it.

 

“Feels gross though,” Ezio said, happy to try and make the subject light again. 

 

“Eh,” Aurelia shrugged. “Sex is way more gross.” She pulled a face and stuck out her tongue in disgust. “ _ Sticky _ . I never get used to it.”

 

He snorted. “I think you might be in the wrong business, then.”

 

Aurelia let out a short laugh, a sideways grin pulling at her lips. “Never too late to become a nun,” she said. 

 

“Wouldn’t that be awkward when the priests recognise you?”

 

“For  _ them _ , yeah,” her grin turned wolfish. “Then if they tried excommunicating me, I could just describe their weird birthmarks, or what their cocks look like. Check mate, you pompous shits.”

 

He couldn’t help it — he laughed so hard he began to wheeze almost soundlessly, ribs aching. It definitely wasn’t helped by her informing him that he was one to talk, what with the Grande Carro constellation made out of moles on the back of his thigh. 

 

After an hour, he knew all he never knew he needed to know about her patron’s birthmarks, he had long since forgotten his tears, and Aurelia had started calling him loverboy and slut instead of virgin. A definite upgrade, he felt. There was undeniably a respect between them that hadn’t been there before. Maybe opening up to people  _ wasn’t _ terrible. Terrifying, absolutely, but he liked the results it had given him thus far, such as the new nickname. He was almost finishing braiding Aurelia’s hair as she explained some fight going on between two of her coworkers when there was a knock on the door. 

 

“A moment, please!” she called. Then, to Ezio, “Help me get up, without letting go of the braid.”

 

“You want me to hold your hair while you answer the door?”

 

“Yeah? I haven’t even gotten to see what it looks like yet, I’m not letting you off before you’re done. Just don’t be rough.”

 

Holding her hair almost like a leash was not something he had ever pictured doing before (he also hadn’t braided someone else’s hair before, so maybe it was just part of the experience, he wouldn’t know), and he had rarely felt as awkward as he did standing behind her, half a head taller, holding her hair as she opened the door —

 

and immediately locking eyes with Leonardo. Before Leonardo’s eyes travelled up to his hair, took in the two braids expertly done by Aurelia, and broke out into a wide smile, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corner, that made his dimples deepen, that lit out the whole room and it hit him again like a ton of bricks that by God, Ezio loved that man, and would do anything to make sure he had reason to keep smiling like that.

 

“I see you two have been busy,” he said in lieu of greeting. 

 

“Believe it or not,” Aurelia deadpanned, “even fucking gets old after a while. Kidding, calm down, I wouldn’t do that to you, loverboy, get in here while we’re still young.”

 

“We can’t  _ both _ be loverboy,” Ezio objected, being led by Aurelia to sit down in the couch again, with her on the floor in front of him. It really was more  _ his _ leash, than hers, he realised. 

 

“Why not? You’re both so sweet. I haven’t seen anyone other than Isabella cry because they love someone so much before. And I think she was only doing it out of anxiety, your tears were so touching.”

 

Leonardo made a noise of sympathy as he took a seat next to Ezio. Too far away, though, he couldn’t even feel their thighs pressed together, and with Aurelia in front of him, he couldn’t move, and couldn’t use his hands. He began to braid faster. “Was this before or after Cristina left?” Leonardo asked, not unkindly, as he knew how touchy the subject still was.

 

“After,” Ezio was quick to say. He was embarrassed, to be sure, but he technically wasn’t lying, and though he felt nothing but unshakeable certainty that he would sometime soon reveal his feelings to Leonardo, he didn’t want  _ Aurelia making fun _ being the way to go about it. Aurelia, though, had no way of knowing this, so she turned around to send a glare his way, but she didn’t contradict him, or add anything else. Likely, she was simply assuming that he was embarrassed by his outburst and didn’t want Leonardo to know how serious he was about them just yet, because that would make him look weak, or unmanly. Since the glare she was sending him was one he had, by experience, learnt meant  _ you pathetic, emotionally constipated little man.  _ He looked as apologetic and sheepish as he could, which did help somewhat, going by her long suffering sigh.

 

“How’s our darling Isabella?” she asked instead. 

 

“Exhausted, I put her to bed,” Leonardo said. “But happy. Overwhelmingly so. I assume Ezio told you the good news?”

 

“He did,” she said. “I’m over the moon, really. They both deserve some more good in their lives, and having seen them dance around each other for weeks has been  _ exhausting _ . I hope it works out, I really do.”

 

Ezio suppressed a satisfied  _ yesss _ as he finished Aurelia’s braid. “Ribbon, please?” Aurelia wordlessly stretched her hand back with a ribbon. He made quick work of tying the braid and making a tasteful bow, which was about the only thing related to hair he knew how to do, said “Done!” and fell sideways to land with his head in Leonardo’s lap. Leonardo’s hand came up and as surprised as he looked at the sudden appearance of Ezio in his lap, he was more curious about the braids, trailing where they began at his forehead and as far back as he could reach before he would only come in contact with his own thighs. Before he could pull his hand back, though, Ezio grabbed it, pressing a kiss to his palm. He delighted in seeing Leonardo turn red, and bit his lower lip to stop himself from giggling. 

 

Aurelia made a disgusted noise. “Alright lovebirds, I get it, you’re all lovey dovey in love. Please stop, it’s getting excessive.” She did not, however, sound completely serious, but who was she if she wasn’t saying something sarcastic? 

 

“Green is not your colour, my dear,” Leonardo drawled, as if Ezio needed a reason to love him even further. Suddenly, it hurt to not be able to say that, but he squashed that down by intertwining their fingers. If he couldn’t say it with words yet, he would do it in gestures. If there was one thing Leonardo deserved, it was a good courting. Ezio didn’t have much experience with that, had never considered himself the type, but for Leonardo… he would try. He would succeed. He would sweep him off his feet with all the romantic gestures that a relationship should begin with. Compliments, prose, flowers, hand holding, sweet nothings whispered in the dead of night, long walks for no reason other than each other’s company, meeting the his mother. He would do it, he would do right by Leonardo. As attracted as he was to Leonardo, he would not do this with the end goal of getting in bed with him, and he would damn well make sure that Leonardo knew that. Knew that it was love, like Leonardo had cried on the floor of his living room, and love without an end goal other than  _ them _ . 

 

* * *

 

That night, Ezio didn’t bother pretending with distance. He knew that he would seek his way to Leonardo in the night, no matter where he fell asleep. So when Leonardo laid himself down first, Ezio followed, and put his back to Leonardo’s chest, with his head under his chin. He didn’t have to ask if it was alright, if Leonardo wanted him to move, because although there was a second of hesitation from the man behind him, he nevertheless curled his arms around Ezio and pulled him tighter against him. They didn’t speak a single word, letting their bodies do it for them, as their breaths evened out and slowed, as their heartbeats synced, until they were fully in tune, like one, instead of two. Ezio had never slept better in his life. He was in love and, wrapped in the arms of the man whose heartbeat he shared, he dared to think that he wasn’t the only one. 

 

* * *

“How do you court another man?” Ezio asked the next morning. The sun was spilling in through the windows in long, golden rectangles, early and bright, and against what was polite, they were drinking pickmeups in bed, covers rumpled around them, bundled at the hips and their legs tangled with one another’s, even as they were sitting up.

 

“I… haven’t really done it before,” Leonardo admitted. “It’s frightening enough trying to guess if another man is interested, to approach them with courting has always seemed redundant, since sex usually comes first. Out of necessity, really.”

 

“How do you find out, then? I imagine you can’t exactly go up to someone and flirt, the way you would with a woman.”

 

“You described it yourself when you spoke about that other boy,” Leonardo pointed out. “Looks shared across the sea of people, appreciative gazes you might dismiss as recognition or admiration of their fashion if there’s a confrontation. Plausible deniability might just be what saves your life. If it all goes well from there, you might go somewhere private, then you’re free to flirt. Subtly, at first, to truly confirm the interest.”

 

“So falling in love would happen after having slept together, multiple times? If it happens?”

 

Leonardo sighed. “Yes, basically. It does sort of render classical courting moot. And it’s why — I haven’t fallen for anyone I’ve slept with, I think. I’ve been keeping my heart so close because I have so much love that wants out and to be acted on that romance seems like a dream, more than something that lies in my future. Companionship is fine, sometimes great, but,” he shrugged. “I would just like at least one date, for once. Just the one, just to know what it’s like. Maybe it would hurt more, because I would know what I’m missing, but I don’t care, I just want to have known it, at least once.”

 

Ezio leaned forward and squeezed Leonardo’s knee. “You’ll get it. I know you will,” he said, making, then, a promise. Leonardo would learn that sometimes, dreams do come true. And if he rejected Ezio, then alright. He would, at least, have known that one date he talked about, or have been offered it. Maybe that, at least, would suffice.

 

Leonardo’s eyes softened, with what Ezio believed to be a bitter sweetness about it, as if he didn’t wholly believed him still, but wanted to, and that the hope of it was as inspiring as it was painful. “Thank you, Ezio,” he said. Then, he tilted his head a little, and his eyes changed as if mentally shaking himself. “I haven’t even asked yet, sorry; are you alright with going home today?”

 

Strange, how his parents, especially his father, had been the only concern and seemingly only thing he could put his mind to, just before last night, as he hadn’t even given them a thought once they set out for the bordello. Now, the thought of seeing them didn’t make him feel viscerally ill, as it had before. He had gathered himself enough, and he had a  _ goal _ . His father’s damage wasn’t undone, but he was unravelling it thread by thread, now that he knew himself better, now that he knew what he wanted, and that there was a very real possibility that he would have it. He thought maybe it hadn’t been all Cristina that had shaken him so badly, and rather, it was the loss of the  _ possibility _ of the love they could have had, that he had despaired over. That he hadn’t been able to be vulnerable with her, or compromise with her, and she had seen that, and gone with someone who would. _ “I’m grown now,” _ she’d said, something like that. He had grown now, too. He wouldn’t be making the same mistake twice. For that, he could find the courage within himself necessary to face his father, and pretend that nothing had changed. 

 

“I think I am, yeah,” Ezio said. “Besides, I can still say I don’t feel well enough for family dinner and stay in my room, at least today. And it’s not like I’ve got to do much more than say hi, I’m not dead, no need to worry, to their faces, you know? My father is just gonna nod and  _ maybe  _ say it’s good to see me well. Mamma’s gonna be around a bit more, but I’m not as angry with her.” And what a turn around wasn’t that? For once, she was a downright saint in comparison.

 

What with how good his parents were in comparison to some others, he still got off lucky. Leonardo had been luckier than most, going by his description of his mother. Then again, he had said nothing at all about his father. Ezio wanted to know, now that the thought had entered his head. He set that aside in his head for another moment, though. In case it was a painful subject, it really wasn’t something to be brought up so soon before a goodbye.

 

God, he felt melodramatic. He was going  _ home _ , and he would be back soon enough, but he still felt terrible about separating. He wondered when the word for home and Leonardo’s home had begun to blur. All the things associated with a home, he could find there. If only his siblings could come and go, he would never have to leave the house again, and would still be satisfied. 

 

That was a lie, he realised. 

 

He wanted to take Leonardo someplace else, if only for a time, look at the world with him. Look at Leonardo as he looked at the world, stand beside him out in nature, far away from any other human being, and breathe it in together. 

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Leonardo said. “And if it gets too much —,” he laid his hand over Ezio’s and squeezed it, “ — you know where to find me.”

 

Ezio laughed, suddenly warm all over, and turned his hand over to intertwine their fingers. “I’m pretty sure I could find my way here blind, at this point.”

 

Leonardo smiled. “I don’t know about your villa, but I do think I could pick you out of a crowd while blind.”

 

“Without my iconic good looks? The horror. It’s my only asset,” Ezio joked. Leonardo didn’t laugh though, instead his smile grew smaller, then drank the last of the pickmeup, until there wasn’t as much as a drop. Confused, Ezio matched him, and almost winced as the hot contents went down his throat all at once. Just as he was finished, Leonardo took their mugs in one hand, the one not holding Ezio’s, and put them to the side, as far away from them on the bed as he could reach. He took away his hand, the one previously intertwined, and leaned forward to splay his hand, his warm, calloused fingertips, across his sternum and above. The base of his throat, his collarbone. Not putting any pressure, not threatening in anyway, nor choking, only resting, skin and bone to skin and bone. 

 

He said, “I would know your voice anywhere at all. Fifty years from now, I would still know your laughter. And if I grew to be spectacularly old, and lost my hearing, I would still feel it vibrate, here.” Ezio’s chest was still. He feared breathing would shatter this calm, and bring him back to reality. Leonardo raised his hand higher, past his throat, settling on his cheek, thumb at the corner of his mouth. “And when you laughed silently the way you do when you’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe, and your shoulders are shaking like you’re crying, I would lay my hand here, and feel the muscles of your cheek stretch into a grin. And that’s all I need. But I would want to…” he swallowed, fighting to get the words out but getting them caught on their way out, looking uncertain now, almost afraid. Still, there was a determination there, one that Ezio thought he recognised, and if he was right—

 

Ezio couldn’t hold his breath any longer, and gasped, deep, at once, letting the air rush back in. Leonardo wasn’t concerned, only looking amused with Ezio, even as he himself felt stupid for forgetting to  _ breathe. _ Leonardo raised his other hand to curl it over Ezio’s other cheek and he reflexively raised a hand to grip Leonardo’s shoulder. Still, Leonardo didn’t move forward. Ezio wanted him to cross the divide, to dare to take action, but he couldn’t fault him for hesitating. With what he had confessed before, of his fears, Ezio was sad to understand that he still feared that he would be repulsed, or that Ezio would think he was trying to force him. There was still that ugly, painful part of him that was still disgusted with himself, fighting against what he knew to be true — that he could have this, and that it would be offered freely, without regrets or condemnation. He could have this. They could have this. 

 

“ _ Leonardo _ ,” Ezio swallowed past the emotion in his throat, voice croaky, but still he said, looking Leonardo deep in the eyes to show him how firmly he meant it, “I would want you to.”

 

What might have been hope, what was definitely tears, welled in Leonardo’s eyes, and he was still, so still for just a moment. Then, all at once, he surged forward, and then they kissed for the second time, what almost felt like the first time.

 

The first time had been shy, chaste, short. This was nothing of the sort. Ezio opened his mouth immediately, pushed back, tried to get as much of Leonardo as he possibly could. Leonardo’s hand shifted to hold his neck, hard as steel and nothing had felt more comfortable, more right, than his grip on his skin, possessive and secure. Their noses bumped together again and again as they moved, their teeth clashed once, but he didn’t care about technique, showing off his skills; he was moving on instinct, moving the way he felt like it, the way he wanted to. He didn’t care if he fucked up, he cared about the heat of their skin, their mouths, the way Leonardo’s tongue moved against his. It twisted against his and Ezio moaned into Leonardo’s mouth and moved to grip Leonardo’s hair, curling his fingers into the long, golden tresses, as securely a grip as the one Leonardo had on him. He pulled him closer to himself, chests flush against one another, and then all of a sudden Leonardo was pushing him, tipping them over, all the while still kissing him. 

 

The impact of his back to the mattress was little to none — it was Leonardo landing on his that took his breath away, their teeth clashing together, almost painfully, for the second time. The feeling of stubble rasping against his skin should have felt foreign, should have itched. Instead, it only added to his enjoyment of it all, and he delighted in imagining the look of his skin rubbed red  _ everywhere _ , and pictured how it would feel on the insides of his legs. His hand was still curled in Leonardo’s hair, but Leonardo had moved his hand from his neck to grip his waist, in a gesture that Ezio recognised, and then he realised how familiar his own position was. It felt like a million times that he had pushed his lovers back the way Leonardo had, a million times that he had gripped their waists like he was. Instead of feeling emasculated, he was overjoyed, remembering Leonardo telling him, just a day ago, that  _ we’re both men, Nobody is the woman, that’s the point, _ and now he got it. He hadn’t surrendered, being overpowered, emasculated — he was participating in a game for two, kissing Leonardo like the only way to breathe was through him, and he loved it. He loved it, and it made him laugh, because he felt  _ empowered,  _ because he was doing what he loved, with someone he loved, and Leonardo hadn’t said anything yet, really, except that he wanted him, and not only for his pretty face. He realised that he was laughing, and that Leonardo was pulling back, only from his mouth, to pepper his jaw with kisses, nibble at his throat, draw a line along his throat with his tongue and Ezio  _ loved  _ it, and kept laughing. 

 

Leonardo pressed his hand to his sternum, the same way he had before, to feel him laugh. Ezio’s heart damn near burst. “What’s,” Leonardo pressed a kiss under his ear, “so,” at his pulse point, “funny?” at his lips, then set about trailing down his throat.

 

“You know, when I imagined this, I always pictured me on top,” Ezio said between laughs. “Now here I am, firmly on bottom.”

 

Leonardo appeared nose to nose with him again, while his hand travelled down from his hip to his inner thigh. “Do you want to switch?”

 

“ _ Fuck _ no!” Ezio exclaimed. “Please keep doing whatever you were doing to my neck.”

 

Leonardo quirked a brow. “I might leave a mark,” he warned. Ezio felt a lot of blood travel from his head to his groin, which was probably why he was stupid enough to say “ _ Please  _ do.”

 

He pointed towards the joint of his neck and shoulder, “Here. Give me all you’ve got.”

 

Leonardo obliged, at first kissing the place he had pointed to, before latching on and beginning to suck. Ezio’s toes curled, as it felt as if his entire soul was being pulled through the bruise beginning to form there. “This is,” he panted, “is definitely my preferred kind of blood-letting.” He pressed Leonardo’s face further into his neck, and grinned at the feeling of Leonardo’s shoulders shaking from trying not to laugh at his dumb joke. Horny out of his mind and Ezio was still funny. It almost made him forget that he wasn’t doing anything to participate except keen, whine and moan. Admittedly, there wasn’t much he could do, not if he wanted Leonardo to keep — he groaned loudly as Leonardo pressed his tongue flat against the mark — doing  _ that.  _ Though, he could at least keep him on his toes, he thought, snaking his free hand down to firmly grope Leonardo’s ass, at the same time as he pressed his leg between them and pressed his thigh upwards, right against Leonardo’s growing hardness. He was rewarded with a sharp gasp and, as he rolled his thigh, an almost vicious bite that made him moan in turn. 

 

“God damn it,” Ezio panted, almost delirious as Leonardo began to explore his inner thighs, stroking him everywhere except for where he most wanted it, “I had a plan, you know? An actual plan.”

 

“That’s unlike you,” Leonardo said, muffled as it was with how little he was willing to part from Ezio’s skin. Ezio barked out a short laugh (then another moan, as Leonardo just barely touched Ezio’s dick before retreating to his thighs).

 

“I know,” he said, “But it was such a  _ good  _ plan, I was going to court you, all proper and stuff I’m usually not, and bring you flowers before I asked to kiss you. Then you went and took the initiative, you brilliant bastard.”

 

“I’ve saved you some time, then,” Leonardo said, sounding amused, “That might have taken you weeks. And really, you should have planned for this, since we  _ both _ know that you know you’re,” he bit him again, drawing out an embarrassingly high pitched keen from Ezio, “Irresistible.” He seemed satisfied with the mark he had left — Ezio could feel it pulsing, not painful, but a constant presence, and knew that he would feel it for days, and that was enough to make him almost come at the spot — and drew down the collar of Ezio’s shirt to kiss and suck at his chest. He had almost forgotten that they were still clothed. Underwear and shirts only, sure, but he was still amused with himself for having forgotten, even as it was clinging to his skin with sweat. Oh shit, he was going to have to tie his shirt high before he left, or their little “I was sick” scheme would be completely disintegrated the second one of his family members saw his hickey. It was only for him to see, except for Leonardo, and he intended to study it in full privacy his mirror later that night. 

 

“You say that as if I’m not still planning on courting the absolute hell out of you,” Ezio grinned, rubbing his thigh up and down and kneading his hand, bright satisfaction in his chest for every little noise he managed to get out of Leonardo. “There’s no reason I can’t still shower you with flowers and gifts. Spoil you completely, give you every last second of my attention, the way you deserve. I’m going to do it, and I’m going to do it  _ right _ . I’ll just have to cram in some time for sex and a ridiculous amount of kissing in our busy schedule.”

 

Leonardo tore his mouth from Ezio’s chest and steadied himself on the bed with one hand so that he could look Ezio in the eyes, fully. His mouth was slightly open (his lips red and swollen in a way that begged to be kissed again). The look in his eyes was nothing short of wondrous. “Are you serious?” he breathed, oddly hopeful.

 

_ Yes, I’ve never been this serious about anything before.  _ “I want to do right by you,” Ezio said.  _ Yes, I’ve never loved anyone as much as I do you.  _ “The way I haven’t done before. I can’t promise to be any good at it, since it’s a work in progress, but,” he swallowed, ( _ Yes!)  _ “I promise to try. I promise to do whatever I can to do this right. I’ve never wanted to do anything as much as I want to do right by you.”

 

He supposed Leonardo approved, by the way any other words from Ezio was hindered by Leonardo once again claiming his mouth. If he had been passionate before, he was almost obsessive then. Ezio groaned, and heard Leonardo do the same, and began to instinctively roll his hips, over and over rhythmically, pressing his leg upwards again and again, harder and harder, at the same time as Leonardo finally stopped teasing him and pressed his hand against Ezio’s groin. At that point, Ezio stopped being able to think clearly, and all he could register was movement — up and down, up and down, again and again — and what he had felt before — pleasure, love, joy, warmth, want — was increased tenfold, all the while his mouth only parted from Leonardo’s to gasp, to moan, to breathe as deeply as he could. There was the added  _ wetness  _ now, too, from where Leonardo’s cock was leaking through his underwear and on Ezio’s leg, from where Ezio, too, was weeping through to where Leonardo was rolling his palm, then pulling, before he snaked his hand inside his damp clothes to take him fully in hand and began to pull him off in earnest. It didn’t take long for him to see stars from the sensations, and soon he was arching his back and crying out as he came in Leonardo’s hand. Leonardo coaxed him through it, kissing the corner of his mouth and telling him “I’ve got you.”

 

His head was spinning, but as soon as he began to come down, still panting, his hair stuck to his forehead and neck with sweat, he thrust his tongue into Leonardo’s mouth again, snaking his hand much like Leonardo had down between their bodies, and inside Leonardo’s clothes. It wasn’t that different from the times he had taken himself in hand, except for the fact that Leonardo felt (huh) girthier than he was, and for the fact that though he could feel the silky skin, the wetness of the precum, the firmness of the hard-on itself, the only difference was that he didn’t feel his nerves alight at the contact. Instead, he could delight in seeing Leonardo stutter and moan, and begin to come apart much in the same way he had as Ezio stopped hesitating and started moving. It was with a final twist of his wrist that Leonardo came, crying out against Ezio’s mouth, gripping his hips hard enough to leave bruises. And — alright, it would take some time getting used to touching another man’s come, since he was barely used to his own, yet. Aurelia had been right about that part, it was  _ sticky _ , though she hadn’t mentioned how warm it would be. It wasn’t something he paid any mind to when it was his own, it was much more obvious like this. 

 

The way Leonardo went boneless above him, however, how he relaxed so fully and let himself fall to be held by Ezio, who wound his arms around him, pressing his nose into his hair and breathing in deep (because underneath the smell of sex and sweat, there was still that scent that was unmistakably Leonardo and Leonardo alone); the absolute trust and love that radiated off them both, and how neither minded that they were sweaty, sticky,  _ gross _ , because they were there together and what they had just shared outweighed the negatives by far; how his head was still buzzing with adrenaline even as his limbs felt heavy, and how fiercely his heart beat, not because of the exercise but because of the emotions they had stirred and were still burning hot… he could get used to that.  Knowing that he had been the one to make Leonardo feel that, be the one to make him let go like that? He loved it. He had thought that more in the past day, hour, than he thought he ever had before in his life.  _ He loved it. _

 

There had been multiple lovers that had made Ezio think alright, that was unusually good, even for sex, we’ll have to do this again sometime. This couldn’t compare. Then, it had been all about the technique, sharp skills or new things he hadn’t tried so far and was eager to explore further. This had been basic, in comparison. Essentially, they had kissed, rubbed each other off, and that was that. Basic, simple, could have been done in five minutes as a quicky to blow off some steam when he didn’t have time for anything else. It should have been boring. 

 

It was anything but. Not because it was with a man, which would be the simple answer. He hadn’t even laid eyes on the bits that made it different, he hadn’t even seen Leonardo without his bloody  _ shirt  _ on! It wasn’t different because Leonardo was a man, it was different because — it was someone he loved. 

 

Leonardo tiredly nuzzled his chest, then yawned. His jaw made an audible  _ pop _ noise, and Ezio snorted. “I could fall asleep like this,” Leonardo mumbled. 

“As much as I would love that,” Ezio said, “I fear that if I was to stay here, I could never leave.”

“Then don’t,” Leonardo said, sounding as if he was joking, though Ezio got the feeling he, at least in part, was fully serious.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured him, pressing another kiss to his crown. “Nothing could keep me away.”

“Mm,” Leonardo agreed. He tilted his head upwards to look Ezio in the eye. “They’d have to fight me off, too.”

“You and your inventions,” Ezio grumbled fondly. There was definitely something among those sketches that could be weaponized very effectively. Leonardo’s chuckles did not ease his mind. “Ah, you’re terrifying,” he said fondly.

Leonardo slung his leg over Ezio’s in lieu of reply. “Five more minutes.”

Ezio thought he ought to be responsible for once, and tell him that no, he really ought to be going. Only Leonardo wrapped himself tighter around him and made such a happy noise that they stayed there for half an hour. 

Getting dressed was a struggle and a half, since Leonardo kept kissing him, and when he wasn’t, Ezio was kissing him. It was a sort of reverse striptease, after he had done his best to clean off the sticky (Aurelia was very right) gunk and sweat, try to help Leonardo with the sheets, eat something, and kiss Leonardo more than was productive. He only had to do a little maintenance on the braids. They would raise questions but… whatever, better they look funny at that than at the hickey his collar only barely managed to hide when tied up all the way. Leonardo leant him a scarf, which was explainable thanks to his “illness”. The rashes he had gotten from Leonardo’s stubble had been very enticing to look at, he thought, but itchy. Leonardo had calmed that down with some sort of cream, and luckily it was mostly on his chest and throat anyway, thanks to the weird angle Leonardo had been working on there. The bruises on his hips were small, but gorgeous even before they had coloured properly. He couldn’t wait until he was safe to examine his hickey in the mirror.

 

 

It ended up taking them three hours to make the bed and him look presentable, what with all the kissing, but Leonardo was still a gorgeous  _ mess.  _ Hair rumpled, body clean but the only clothes he had changed was his underwear. His lips were still swollen and red and together with his lack of clothes, he looked absolutely debauched. Ezio wanted to go upstairs with him again, and do it thoroughly this time. 

“I’ll be back in a few days,” Ezio promised between Leonardo kissing him goodbye. “I promise you.”

“Feel free to return sooner,” Leonardo smiled, wide, hand again around his neck. Standing up, they had made the absolutely delightful discovery that, since they were the same height, neither had to bend down or stand on their toes for them to kiss. It was effortless, natural, and it made it so easy not to stop. “And best of luck with your family,” he added on a more serious note. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

“And I you,” Ezio said. He made that last kiss last longer, dive deeper. If he fucked up entirely and risked cracking in front of his parents, he would have that to remember and focus his mind on instead. Leonardo, earnest, loving, and wholly supportive, in a way no one else had ever been. He would get through going home, firmly  _ not _ break down in front of his father and then, in a few days, he would begin the long and arduous process of paying Leonardo back. He would stay true to his earlier words: he would do right by him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seriously ezio saying "i had a plan!" is me. I HAD A PLAN. A GOOD PLAN. then i remembered that shit, ezio isn't being sublte, and leo might have internalised homophobia but that doesn't mean can't put two and two together when ezio is all but spreading his legs and yelling _take me!_
> 
> what happened was that i wrote leo saying the stuff about being blind. then i thought huh, this would be a good place for him to kiss him..? oh god oh fuck. okay let's do it. BUUUT they shouldn't do anything more than kiss! let's save the sex. then leo pushed him over and i was like ok... in for a penny in for a _**pOuNDiNg**_
> 
> it also just occurred to me that chapter 7-17 have just been..... two very, very long days. what the fuck is pacing, anyway.... "hi son how have you been?" ezio: [x](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/46/7f/c7/467fc732ba168ebde6c96b6a631f08fa.png)


	18. having a theme to your chapter titles seemed like a good idea when you thought it was gonna be 10 chapters but by now it's just stressful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh hey, other canon characters beside ezio and leonardo, i forgot those existed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about this being late except i'm not sorry actually. i had half of it written and was gonna crunch it on saturday since i had an assignment due friday except I HAD A DAAAAAAAAATE!!!! THAT LASTED TEN HOURS HOLY SHIT so yes. i've been busy
> 
> also important fact to remember: when siblings are faced with another sibling not too far apart in age, no matter how old they are, they immediately regress to their twelve year old self. this is a Fact. it also makes their insults less mature. my brother used to say YOUR MOM and would immediately realise his mistake until a few years ago. our older brother though, has a different mother, and therefore can say YOUR MOM and more importantly, we can say it back. anyway omg me and my date held hands and stargazed. stargays. HAA

It was — strange, really, how the city looked the same, same stone, same streets, same windows, same colours, same people living there, same people walking by. The only thing changed were the clouds, never the same formation twice, and still Ezio walked by a changed man. 

 

Not even was he necessarily changed, either, all that had changed was new experience under his belt, and awareness of a gradual shift of his character and the knowledge he had that he could only see was a change in retrospect. Like the Greeks used to say, he was rowing a boat, always moving forward, but only facing backwards, seeing where he had been, and not where he was heading. He wouldn’t know until he passed it, until he was there, until Leonardo kissed him that first time, until he learned what making love, compared to having sex, felt like. New experience, new knowledge, not a new Ezio, not a new Leonardo. They were always changing, and never new. 

 

One thing that hadn’t changed and likely never would about Ezio was that God, he wanted to share what he was feeling with each and every person he met, just because he couldn’t really believe it himself, he was so exuberant. He had waltzed through the street like he owned them the morning after no longer being a virgin, feeling a childish urge to say “I’m not a virgin anymore!” to every adult he saw as if to say, hey, I’m one of you now! And to the priests, I’ve probably had more sexual than you! Congratulate me! He had been the same when he reached his majority, and when Cristina returned his advances, and the one time he played his cards so well each and every one of his friends lost a  _ lot  _ of money to him; he just felt he had to share it, had to grin and click his heels and salute every stranger to suppress the urge to full out scream “I am  _ REALLY  _ happy, people!” 

 

He took a leisurely route to the villa for that reason, stopping to gather feathers from a nest he saw on one roof, to exchange pleasantries with someone he vaguely recognised but got away without remembering the name of, to stop by a street dog and scratch its ear and say “hey, I’m in love, just so you know,” and laughing when it barked excitedly. He told a pigeon, too, but it just flew off. The cat he told just twirled itself around his leg before pawing at his boot buckles. The more human fruit vendor had looked puzzled, like he thought Ezio was some sort of crazy, though a harmless sort, and said “good for you”.  

 

Before he could avoid it for much longer though, he was at home, in the technical sense. Or, in one of his homes, the one which had been home for far longer, but didn’t had grown to feel more and more cold. His fondest memories rarely took place there, even before Leonardo, but outside, in the streets. His fondest memories with Federico took place on rooftops, running races, at the top of the nearest church, outside a bar covering each other’s back in a dumb fight. His fond memories of Claudia took place mostly during walks and, especially when they were younger, when she had managed to sneak out with him and Federico, and did a fairly good job of keeping up, even in her skirts. Petruccio was the one exception, though he himself longed to get out more than any of his siblings, which coloured those memories inside. It showed so clearly in the gifts Ezio brought back; feathers and stories, as well as where Petruccio would be. The memories were of him always close to a window, in the inner yard, right outside, bright and grinning with joy whenever they were going someplace else. The villa wasn’t as much of a home as the people in it, which was why instead of confining himself to his room like some would when at odds with their family, he fled outside, someplace else. To a friend, the bordello, Cristina,  _ Leonardo _ .

 

Contrast, then, the feeling of home the very building Leonardo lived in made him feel. Memories taking place in the bedroom as the most obvious example, but also in front of the fireplace, on the floor, in chairs, sitting on tables, walking around piles of  _ what on earth have you even stacked in this?!  _ and standing by the easel, laying on the roof, making do in the kitchen. Even with Leonardo away from it, the very rooms still felt special and welcoming in a way the parlour at the villa never could, the small rickety dining table felt inviting in a way the rich salon and its decorated dining set never could.

 

No point in being morose, though, he thought to himself. He would be back there soon enough. The entrance was just in sight, all he had to do was go. Deep breath. One step forth, then another, and then—

 

He was tackled from the side and almost fell to the ground, caught from falling only by the same arms that had pushed him. “ _ Ezio! _ ”

 

“Federico, you shit!” He laughed, relieved and so much lighter for it. “Have you been waiting out here for me?”

 

“I wanted to be the first one to see you,” Federico said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Ease you back into the insanity. Almost didn’t recognise you at first with the long face — and oh, yeah, what happened to you  _ hair _ ?” Ezio had to swat his hands away to stop him from pawing at the braids. 

 

“They’re braids, idiot, what’s wrong with your eyesight?”

 

“You’re the idiot, I meant who braided your hair?”

 

In a split second, he decided that Federico deserved to be tortured by the truth. Or, part of it, at least. “You know Aurelia?”

 

Federico rolled his eyes. “ _ Everybody  _ knows Aurelia, idiot, what about it?”

 

“She did.”

 

“She what?”

 

“Braided my hair, aren’t you listening?”

 

“Fuck off, I was just asking.”

 

“I’m serious!”

 

“I thought you were sick!”

 

“I  _ was, _ ” he insisted. “But Leonardo was going to the brothel to sketch,  it’s this whole thing he does, and I didn’t want to be snotty, bored and alone so I went with him, so I talked shit with Aurelia and we braided each other’s hair while he sketched her and Isabela.”

 

The most accurate description of the look on Federico’s face Ezio could think of was, softly horrified. “Either you’ve miraculously gotten better at lying while you were gone,” he said, “or you’re actually serious.”

 

“People lie, Federico,” Ezio said, as deadly serious as he could manage, and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, pointing to his head with his free hand, “but braids don’t. See these perfect braids? They don’t lie.”

 

“Holy shit,” Federico said, softly, kind of like a whisper. 

 

“They really like Leonardo,” he said, since that to him explained everything. Federico just looked more confused. “ _ So _ , I’m friends with them, too, now. Aurelia is actually really nice once you try to have a conversation with her.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” A beat. “I gave you a lot of respect in my head just now. Don’t waste it.”

 

“For once, I don’t think I will,” Ezio replied, continuing to be honest. “I think I’ll need it when I face Claudia.”

 

Federico hissed through his teeth. “Yeah… she was feeling  _ really  _ guilty about you running away. She actually realised that she went too far. I think she cried over it.”

 

“Really?” Ezio narrowed his eyes. “Leonardo told me she thought I was lying.”

 

“Yeah she was feeling guilty until she decided that you were not above lying to get out of class and into brothels. She wasn’t wrong about the second part, though…” he teased. Ezio sighed. 

 

“I didn’t have sex. Something about not wanting to get infected with whatever devilry was going on with me, to quote Aurelia.”

 

Federico put his hand on Ezio’s forehead. 

 

“What the hell, get off me!” He said, trying to pull his brother’s hand away. 

 

“Hush, I’m taking your temperature,” Federico said. 

 

“Yeah,  _ why? _ ”

 

“You went to a brothel and didn’t have sex, I need to see if you have a fever but,” he pulled his hand back, shaking his head. “It is as I feared.”

 

“What?” Ezio slapped his forehead. It didn’t feel warm. “What do you mean?”

 

“You’ve got idiot’s disease. It’s incurable.”

 

“Oh,  _ fuck y _ —“ he darted his hand out to catch Federico in a headlock, but his brother was one step ahead and was already running off. Ezio chaser after him with a furious shout, to which the only reply was laughter. 

 

It was a short chase however, as they both skidded to a stop inside the Auditore courtyard, where their mother was staring at them with enough disapproval to halt them in their tracks without a second’s thought. Just as their game and argument had been juvenile, so too did they feel like children when she as much as glanced at them. Shorter than both of them, it was impossible for her not to tower over them still. 

 

“Mamma!” Ezio exclaimed with a grin he didn’t feel, “Your timing is impeccable as always.”

 

“It would be stranger if it wasn’t, you’re not exactly hard to miss. If you wanted to surprise me, you should not have made a scene in a public square. 

 

Ezio waved it away. “Ah, they’re used to us by now. I don’t think they even noticed.”

 

She quirked her brow. “That is not something to be proud of.”

 

“In his defence, he didn’t say we were,” Federico said, then winced when their mother turned her head to him alone. A moment of silence passed with the two brothers standing at high alert, before Maria again chose to focus on Ezio. 

 

“You seem to have recovered fully,” she noted. 

 

He swallowed. “I was almost completely recovered by last night. Leonardo made me rest the entire time I was there. Safe to say it helped, boring as bedrest is.”

 

“I’m glad you’ve made yourself a sensible friend. Truly. He seems to have rubbed off on you.”

 

He was so busy struggling not to laugh at her poor choice of words that he almost didn’t catch what looked like… pride, in his mother’s eyes. It had been so long since he didn’t see something neutral, or something disappointed or resigned, or just tired and sad. “I thought you approved of my other friends,” he chirped, determined not to dwell on what her eyes meant. 

 

“I approve of their connections and the connections they give you in turn,” she said, “Whether I approve of them as people is a different concern altogether.”

 

He was starting to agree with her on that part, which was another thing too scary to consider closely. 

 

“From what I’ve heard, you can’t do much better than di Ser Piero,” Federico chimed in. “Only a priest would be a better paragon of virtue.” Funny, considering he and Federico both knew all too well what most priests lacked in virtue. Ezio alone knew that it should be more accurate to say that a prostitute would be a better paragon of virtue, as he didn’t see them indulge of any of the seven sins, (as they did have much sex but, critically, did not lust, unlike their customers), and indeed instead indulged in welcoming others, safeguarding them, refraining from judgement and encouraging love. He hadn’t gotten to know all of them well, and Eduardo was a piece of shit, but he could still bet that it was more true for the majority of them than of the priests. The priests, who used their services against their vows, then condemned the women for the sins of their customers. Ironic. 

 

“He also happens to be the one friend we have in common,” Ezio noted. “So now that we both like him so much, I feel it’s only fair that we invite him over some time as thanks for the kindness and friendship he has shown.”

 

There it was. Unmistakable pride. To his even greater surprise, Maria opened her arms and enveloped him in her embrace, with Ezio only managing to respond on instinct in his shock. Federico’s mouth actually gaped. 

 

Ezio couldn’t remember the last time he had hugged his mamma. Likely when he was much shorter, as it felt strange to have to bend down for her to rest her chin on his shoulder. All at once he remembered a hundred hugs before, from as a child, that had felt like this. Warm and secure and strong in both senses of the word, and he could smell rose water from her hair. And — alright. This was home. Within his mamma’s embrace, he was at home. He tried not to let it get to him too much, or he would begin to cry and would not be able to stop or let her pull away. 

 

“It is good to have you home safe, son,” she told him, still hugging him. “I’ll admit I was worried, so it is a relief to know I didn’t have to.”

 

“Good to be home,” he said, and was surprised at how much he meant it. There was still plenty of time later for him to change his mind, though. But then and there, it was the truth. He pulled back some, then fully once his mother withdrew and again took on her carefully controlled pose, that was no natural to her in any way. Before any sort of quiet could descend again, Ezio said, “How’s— where’s everyone else?”

 

“Your father is out working and Claudia just left,” his mother said, “Petruccio is in his room, as—”

 

“Can I see him?” Ezio asked. “Is he well enough?” He hadn’t known of his desire to see Petruccio until he asked, though now that he had, it should have been clear. No other Auditore was as easy to talk to, or as understanding, as the youngest. 

 

“As I was saying, actually, he has been asking for you quite often. I believe he would very much appreciate it if you saw him. As long as you’re sure you’re not infectious.”

 

“No, I’m clear, so if there isn’t anything else can I…?” he left the obvious question open, edging outside of their little half circle of a group and towards the nearest stairs.

 

If there was anything their mother would always encourage, it would be the older siblings’ shared fondness of Petruccio. Fond, she inclined her head. “You may go.”

 

As soon as she had nodded, however, he was already off like a shot. Trailing after him came a shout of  _ “nice to see you too, Ezio!”  _ from Federico. Whatever, Petruccio was everyone’s favourite and they all knew it, Federico would have done the same. 

 

* * *

 

Petruccio was in bed, as he so often was while in his room. This time he was sitting on the covers and was dressed, though, but still gazing out of the window like always. That was why he didn’t really turn to look at his guest, despite having said  _ come in _ when Ezio had knocked, until Ezio said “Hello Petruccio,” whereupon his head swiveled around and he broke out into the brightest grin, one you couldn’t help but copy, and cried “ _ Ezio! _ ”

 

Petruccio wasn’t usually very physically animated, so it was only thanks to instinct that Ezio managed to catch him when he jumped off the bed at him. 

 

“ _ Oof _ , wow, you’re heavy! Have you gotten taller in three days, what’s going on?” Ezio laughed, hugging his little brother close. 

 

“I’m growing  _ all the time _ ,” he announced, proud. 

 

“You’re gonna be a giant,” Ezio said. “But right know I can still do this—“ he said, lifting Petruccio up high to his brother’s joyed shriek, spinning him around before (carefully) tossing him back onto the bed. 

He took a chair from Petruccio’s desk and put it right next to the bed to sit on the edge of it, with Petruccio sitting like he had been before only now, he looked alive.

“I’m glad you’re back!” his brother said. “I didn’t know what happened, I was just talking popes and then Claudia was crying because she had been mean and you were  _ gone _ and Federico looked constpi— consti— weird and then the day after I heard you were sick! You’re not still sick, right?”

 

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” Ezio said. “I would have been back if I hadn’t been stupid and went outside in the storm. All my fault, but I’m fine, now.”

 

“And the other times?”

 

The other times? “What do you mean?”

 

“You’ve barely been home lately,” Petruccio said, looking sullen now instead, almost pouting. “Mamma and papà know it, too. You’re there one morning then gone, then back for dinner or even later, or you’re gone all day, and nobody knows where. Where do you go?”

 

His heart beat a rapid tattoo against his chest. He wasn’t going to be stupid about it, reckless and short-sighted, but something inside him told him that it was alright to trust his brother, with at least a part of the truth. There was no one he could stand lying to any less than Petruccio, not even Leonardo. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked, abandoning the chair to sit at Petruccio’s bedside. Petruccio, who sat up straight and nodded, albeit warily. 

 

“It’s not a bad secret?”

 

He huffed a little laugh. “No, not at all. But I can’t tell the rest of our family because they might get mad at me.”

 

“That  _ sounds _ bad,” Petruccio pointed out.

 

“Yeah, maybe a little without context. But, see, the secret is—,” he leaned in close and confided in his brother what had not been able to stop running through his mind, “I’m in love.”

 

Petruccio gasped. The wariness was gone, now he only looked excited. “You’re in love?! Wait,” he deflated a bit. “Why is that bad?”

 

“Because I thought I was in love not that long ago, but I didn’t want to marry her so soon, so she found someone else. And that was why I was acting all — you know.” What a way to simplify a long, heart wrenching and complicated chain of events. Petruccio, though, only nodded sagely. 

 

“Mamma and Claudia got  _ really _ mad,” he said. “But what do you mean you thought you were in love? You weren’t sure?”

 

“I was sure then,” Ezio clarified, “But it took me being in love for real now to realise that I wasn’t, back then, I was just infatuated with her, and almost obsessed. I was terribly selfish. Now, though, I know that if you’re in love you… all you want to do is to make sure that the person you’re in love with is happy, no matter what.”

 

“That’s why father Georgiano says being selfish is a sin,” Petruccio said, apparently having come to some sort of realisation himself. “Because God wants us to love, and being selfish means you don’t.”

 

He smiled. “Right. For example, I haven’t told my love that I’m in love yet, because I want to be sure that that’s the right thing to do first. We’re courting, but I feel that it would be unfair to bring in such strong emotions so early on. Because what if that pressures her into feeling like she has to say it back, even if she doesn’t feel it yet? And would I remember to not be selfish? I don’t know yet, so I’m waiting until I do.”

 

“That’s… sad. Smart, though, I guess. I hope you get to tell her!”

 

“I do, too.” A vice wrapped itself around his heart, a familiar weight at that point, only squeezing lightly, just enough to twinge, not enough to bruise. 

 

“Will you tell me about her?” Petruccio asked, eyes bright and curious. No doubt his head was filled, then, with love stories and descriptions of beautiful maidens. He was an Auditore, even if he still was a miniature. 

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“ _ Everything. _ What does she looks like? What does she like? Does she like you? Who is she, does she have siblings, too? Have you kissed her? Do I know her?”

 

“Oh, where to begin,” he laughed, “You don’t know her, yet, at least. She doesn’t have any siblings, and I know she considers me her closest friend, so she likes me enough for that, at least. I’ve kissed her multiple times, because she likes it, and so do I. She’s…” he sighed. “Beautiful. The most beautiful person on earth, like an angel living among us. She’s blonde, but she will only get blonder in the summer, like spun gold. Eyes blue like the summer sky. She loves fashion, and always puts a lot of thought into her appearance, and her favourite colour is pink so she dresses in that the most. She’s… she has freckles, too, she’s slim. She’s incredibly smart and can argue me around in circles, and creative, loves art, a she’s great artist, actually. She’s just a natural at everything she does, and is kind and generous with everyone, but she’s not meek, at all. Loves the outdoors, loves animals — she’s even a vegetarian, actually.”

 

Petruccio wrinkled his nose. “What’s that?”

 

“It means she doesn’t eat meat, at all. Not even  _ fish _ .”

 

“That’s weird, I didn’t know you could do that,” Petruccio said. “Why doesn’t she?”

 

“She likes animals so much, she says she doesn’t want them to suffer and die just so she could eat them, when she might as well enjoy their milk and cheese, and eat vegetables, fruit, bread, pasta. That she has lots of options, and that not eating meat just makes her food taste more, more often, because she gets creative with spices and ingredients.”

 

“Alright, I get it… I hadn’t thought about the animals. But — she cooks?”

 

Ezio nodded. “She even taught me how to make ravioli.”

 

Petruccio, the little horror, started giggling. Ezio made an affronted noise. “What’s so funny!”

 

“I wanna meet the girl that made you cook, and doesn’t eat meat, and loves fashion and a bunch of other stuff you don’t. You don’t sound alike  _ at all, _ ” he giggled.

 

Putting it like that, yes, it might sound strange to someone who hadn’t seen them together. Their differences always felt natural, and like a source of growth, not conflict. “Opposites attract, as they say. She challenges me, but doesn’t judge me if I fail. She’s… incredibly kind. I wish you could meet her, you two would love each other.”

 

His little brother frowned, “Why can’t we?”

 

Ezio paused. He didn’t want to lie, and so had to think before he could put enough of the truth together for it to be as painless as possible. “I can’t marry her. It wouldn’t be allowed, and our parents would be really angry.”

 

He hated that what he said there was true, because seeing Petruccio become upset felt like stabbing himself in the stomach.

 

“ _ Why _ ?” his younger brother cried, twisting the knife.

 

“She’s a bastard,” Ezio said. He swallowed, eyes downcast. “And we’re of a higher class than her because of it, and because her mother is a plebeian, too. That’s why I have to wait to tell her I love her, in part, because I don’t know if she would be alright with us having to hide it. Our parents don’t want me to spend my life with someone in sin, they want me to marry someone richer, with a good name. That’s just how the world works.”

 

And Petruccio looked — furious. “I hate it. That’s not fair, I hate it.” 

 

And Ezio sighed because… how to make the truth of what their world was like hurt less? Petruccio was bound to grow up and as much as their mother urged them to never upset him and keep him in a bubble, that would only end up hurting him more, like how Ezio’s own privileged blindness had inadvertently caused him hurt, though mostly by how he had unknowingly hurt others. 

 

“Familial duty,” Ezio said. “Family first, for better or worse. That’s a way that we shouldn’t be selfish in, either. To make our family happy, sometimes we have to make sacrifices. But I’m a little bit selfish, still, which is why I want to have as much joy and love as I can with my love, without hurting our family. If I’m sneaky, and keep the rest of society from knowing, and our parents from knowing, I can make our family happy, and have the love I want. It’s not an easy secret I’m asking you to keep, Petruccio, I know that. For what it matters, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s not like it’s your fault,” Petruccio grumbled. “I don’t even know who to be mad at, since I’m not supposed to be mad at mamma and papà.”

 

“It’s not their fault either, but you can absolutely be mad at them, if you think they deserve it,” Ezio stressed. “They’re our parents, yeah, but people too. If you think someone’s being unfair, say so.”

 

Petruccio perked up. “Like Jesus did.”

 

Ezio’s own relationship with the Man was complicated, to say the least. He wondered if what he was doing, by unexpectedly telling his brother not to blindly listen to authority, counted as a sin, or if he was  _ actually  _ being a good christian… by going against what Father Georgiano, and likely many other of the clergy, would say. Not to mention his governess, who was almost certainly responsible for Petruccio being the most religious in the family. Shit, there was a discussion to have with Leonardo, next they met. Soon, if Ezio had his way.

 

“Like Jesus did,” Ezio nodded. “Think for yourself, when what someone is saying seems good, or if you disagree.  _ Don’t _ tell anyone I told you that either, or they’ll think I’m trying to turn you into a troublemaker.”

 

Petruccio smiled. “Lots of secrets,” he said. “I’ve only ever had one secret before, and now I have three.”

 

Ezio grinned, remembering the feathers. “You gonna tell me what you want the feathers for, then?”

 

“No!” Petruccio looked affronted, then smiled conspiratorially and stage whispered “I told you, it’s a  _ secret. _ ”

 

“Absolutely,” Ezio nodded. “I apologise for asking, of course you’ll tell me when you want to.” Then, with a much fonder tone of voice, he confessed, “You’re a good brother, Petruccio.”

 

His brother beamed at that, and said “We are.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might be late w the next chapter! i have another assignment this friday and i'm also going home for the weekend to meet family and friends, go to a party, etc, bc it's the harvest festivallll guys it's AUTUMN NOW!!
> 
> also ezio says she instead of they regarding leo bc for ONCE in this fic my italian knowledge refused to let me budge from the fact that ezio would have no choice but to lie like that since there is no gender neutral option in italian. latin languages are fkd in this way, like everything has a gender. i speak french too and it's equally bonkers. this isn't me defending english though it's a shitty fuckign language. svenska is still superior. bite me i speak four languages i get to choose favourites


	19. Ravioli part 2: electric boogaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the word ravioli is mentioned at least, not that it makes the title make anymore sense. family drama, family fight, followed by sad reflection. from comedy that's bad to thoughts that are sad
> 
> ft. maria "IN THIS HOUSE WE STAN LOVE AND RESPECT LEONARDO DI SER PIERO DA VINCI. ANYONE WHO DOES NOT WILL BE BLOCKED" auditore. you heard me. maria and ezio actually have something beside stubbornness in common and that's the Urge to Defend the Twink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my older brother had the same exact thing going on as Petruccio in the beginning of this chapter. he grew out of it once he realised it meant no meatballs, but let's hope Petruccio has more restraint.
> 
> also hey remember when i said no updates in a while..... that was a lie. but i mean it this time this only happened because it was halfway done! no more update in over a week after this! 
> 
> anyway. on with the unimpressive dialogue that i have not edited ha HA

“Ezio,” his mother said cooly when Ezio entered the dining hall. He slowed in his tracks, wary.

 

“Mother,” he replied, not really knowing what else to do. The rest of the family was already seated, with his father looking exasperated, his sister sighing, rolling her eyes and Federico looked like he was trying not to laugh, but was also a little bit in pain. Petruccio was visibly sulking, resting his face on his fists with his elbows on the table. Suddenly the tension made sense — they had never seen Petruccio misbehave like that during dinner. 

 

“What did you do?” his mother asked. 

 

“What!” he cried. “What makes you think I’ve done anything?!”

 

His mother drew a long breath, nostrils flaring, and pronounced, in clipped tones, “Petruccio has decided that he is a vegetarian.”

 

Oh.

 

Oh no. That was not what he had intended at all.

 

“I don’t wanna kill animals,” Petruccio grumbled, for what clearly was not the first time.

 

“It’s already dead, you didn’t kill it,” Claudia tried to reassure him.

 

“I don’t want them to die for me neither,” he grumbled some more.

 

“What makes you think I have anything to do with this?” Ezio demanded.

 

“Because I know of only one other person in this accursed town who is a vegetarian,” his mother said, “and the two of you have become fast friends. Petruccio couldn’t have thought of this on his own.”

 

Everybody jumped at the sudden  _ bang _ of Petruccio slamming his little fists into the table as he stood up, the drama significantly lowered by how short he was. “I am an independent thinker!” he declared. That one was actually true, because Ezio had no memory of teaching him that particular phrase. He had to ask if he had read it somewhere or if he had come up with it on his own later. 

 

“No you are  _ not _ ,” their father said. “None of you get to be independent thinkers until you’re of majority.” Now it was Claudia’s turn to look deeply offended.

 

“ _ Excuse _ me, father, why does  _ he, _ ” she said, pointing at Ezio, “get to be an independent thinker and I don’t, when we all know I have more sense?”

 

Before Ezio could even begin to say much more than an affronted “hey!” his father looked pensive and corrected himself by saying, “You get to be independent thinkers when you’re considered to be an adult.”

 

“Now what’s that supposed to mean,” Ezio said.

 

“Well, you’re unmarried,” Claudia began, counting on her fingers.

 

“So are you!” Federico interjected, at the same time Petruccio and Ezio said “So is Federico!” which only made him glare at Ezio instead. 

 

“You fool around,” she continued, unbothered.

 

“I haven’t done that in weeks, you know that!”

 

“What, we’re supposed to just take your word for that?”

 

“You don’t have to,” Federico said, “Word on the street is, he’s become a bit of a bore.” At their mother’s glare, he quickly said, “I mean, he’s turned a new leaf and is an inspiration to his peers.”

 

“Damn right I am.”

 

“No swearing in our home!”

 

“Sorry, mother.”

 

“And you aren’t working,” Claudia counted on a third finger.

 

“That’s because we’re  _ all still studying _ ,” Ezio hissed. 

 

“You’ve skipped multiple lessons—”

 

“Actually,” Federico said, “He  _ has _ been doing his latin. He’s practically caught up with me, now.”

 

“ _ Thank you _ , Federico.”

 

“But he skipped two whole days!” Claudia cried. 

 

“I was sick!”

 

“Like I’m supposed to believe that.”

 

“I will have  _ no  _ besmirching of messere Leonardo di Ser Piero’s character, young lady,” their mother said, for once turning her disapproving tone and stare to Claudia. “He is a good friend to this family, a good christian, and a virtuoso in his field. He is to be respected, understand?”

 

Claudia had to be feeling particularly brave, since she had the guts to scoff. Maria only raised an eyebrow, while their father actually flinched back in his chair in surprise (to say nothing of how terrified Federico and Petruccio looked. Ezio would have joined them if he wasn’t thinking about that morning, after the reminder Leonardo’s name brought him. Good times). “Am I the only one who thinks it’s weird that Ezio has suddenly befriended someone with a track record that good? What do they even talk about? What do they  _ do?! _ ”

 

The societal view on women, the nature of human sexuality, humanising prostitutes and slyly critiquing the church probably weren’t a very good answer in that situation. Neither was touching dicks (or crying. They did that a lot, too). Thankfully, Leonardo was a genius and a truly excellent conversationalist, which allowed Ezio to copy Claudia’s condescending counting-of-the-fingers. “Art, history, medicine, engineering, religion, society, the Roman Empire, the Greek Empire, music, how he makes his art—” Claudia looked like she was about to protest again, but he didn’t give her a chance to, “— I’ve been posing for a lot of his sketches, he’s been teaching me about anatomy,” (hah), “and medicine, he’s helped me with my latin, we’ve gone on walks, gone shopping, had dinner, he even taught me how to make ravioli the way his mother taught him to. Yeah, I can  _ cook  _ now, because Leonardo is kind, patient, and the best teacher, the best  _ man _ I have ever met, and so happens to be my best friend, so listen to mamma and leave him out of whatever it is that you’ve got against me!”

 

“Alright,” Claudia said, face red, “Let’s do it then.  _ It’s been over two months and you still haven’t apologised to Rachele’s family you spineless bag of shit! _ ” Oh, shit?

 

“ _ Claudia _ ,” their mother admonished, but she wasn’t finished. “I started talking to her sister to apologise on your behalf since you don’t have the spine to do it, and you know what? She was planning on becoming a nun! And Rachele always dreamed of getting married and becoming a mother and now neither of them can get what they want because of you and you haven’t even apologised for it! They’re not even allowed to  _ talk  _ to each other, Sofia is  _ miserable! _ And you’ve been making  **ravioli!** ”

 

“You seriously think my apology wouldn’t be met by their father trying to skewer me a second time? And either way I doubt it would be  _ welcome _ since it would change, what? Right,  _ nothing.  _ I’m devastated that Rachele was made to do that, but don’t you think that maybe, just  _ maybe  _ their dad should be blamed for what happened next more than me? It’s not like I forced Rachele to become a nun when Sofia was the one who wanted to. And what’s stopping Sofia now? Familial duty? I’ve got nothing to do with that! If I could apologise I would, but I can’t, do the only one who deserves having you cut his balls off is that insane, stabby, cruel father of theirs!”

 

“Like someone’s dad being angry have stopped you before—“

 

“Stop it!” Their father barked. “Claudia, you’re not his mother. Ezio, stop rising to the bait. Sit down, both of you,  _ now _ .”

 

Ezio bit back a noise of frustration and headed for his empty seat, glad, despite his irritation, to have and end to the farce. He was stopped in his tracks by Claudia yelling “No!”, causing their father to whirl his head in her direction, clear surprise and almost disbelief on his face. “I’m sick to death of him always getting away with everything, but the moment I decide to raise my voice I’m as equally at fault as he is!”

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Federico said before Ezio had time to say something stupid. “But what does any of this have to do with Petruccio’s vegetarianism?” 

 

Right, he had completely forgotten that part. By the look of things, so had everyone else. Claudia even had the sense to look embarrassed. Petruccio, who hadn’t said a word in the past minutes… and whom was pale, shaking like a leaf, staring resolutely at the table with wide eyes.

 

“Petruccio?” 

 

At the sound of his name, he flinched back and darted his eyes back and forth over them all, before settling back to the table. “I’m not hungry anymore,” he mumbled. “Can I go to my room?”

 

“Darling, you still need to eat,” their mother said, quickly coming to his side. “I shall have the cook make it vegetarian this time, we can continue the discussion later.”

 

“Can I eat in my room? I don’t feel well.” 

 

Maria made a noise of sympathy and kissed the top of his head. “Just for tonight, then. Come along, I’ll escort you.” To the rest of them, “Begin without me. No need to let dinner grow colder still.”

 

The silence, after they left, was deafening. Claudia had her jaw locked so tightly she would crush her own teeth any minute, Giovanni was staring into his wine cup as if it held the answers to whatever was going on, swirling it in his hand without truly seeing it, and Federico looked like he was about to say something only to instead remain silent, multiple times. Ezio, who had had enough of being sad because of his family lately, decided Federico would be the best person to talk to out of the miserable threesome. He poured himself some wine, dragged his chair out from the table with a screech against the floor, sat down slowly, sipped, smacked his lips, then—

 

“Don’t,” said Claudia.

 

“I hadn’t even said anything this time,” Ezio said. “Notice how I hadn’t even said anything?”

 

“You were going to try to alleviate the tension by talking. Let me tell you right now that it would just do the opposite.”

 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Ezio said, downing his glass and pouring himself another. If this was how the entire evening would go, he was determined to get drunk as soon as possible. “Because as ashamed as I am of what happened to Rachele because of me, and then her sister because their dad decided  _ conventions  _ matter more than the happiness of  _ both  _ his daughters… it’s got nothing to do with you. You're not owed an apology or amends,  _ they  _ are. I don’t owe you a  _ thing. _ ”

 

Claudia’s expression had gone entirely blank, staring at Ezio with multiple emotions, all of them impossible to recognise. Without a word, she stood up, and left the room.

 

Again, silence reigned.

 

“I feel like we’re missing something,” Federico said. “Because you’re right, no way that was about — Rachele, that’s her name. It has to be something else,” he said, then turned to Giovanni, who did not look up from his cup. “Is there something going on that we don’t know about, father?”

 

“I am, for once, as in the dark as the two of you,” their father Sighed, still looking at his wine. 

 

“How the tables turn,” Ezio scoffed. Then winced. Shit. He said that out loud. Federico was leaning away, looking at him searchingly, the way he had looked at Claudia. And Giovanni — was looking up from his cup, and at Ezio. 

 

“Sorry,” Ezio quickly said. “This tension has gotten to me to, I didn’t mean that. As you said, Federico, it wasn’t about me, and I know mamma didn’t accuse me for no reason, none of this has actually been personal, and I should know better than to let it get to me.”

 

“Huh,” Federico leaned his elbow on the table, fully turned on his side in his chair to look at Ezio properly, as if he hadn’t seen him before. Giovanni was still quiet, although his eyes were narrowed. Federico continued, “That’s strangely mature coming from you. Especially considering your last fight a few days ago.”

 

Had it really only been a few days? Was it possible to change, overnight, over nights, with — introspection and self-reflection? He didn’t  _ feel  _ different about himself, really. He had been happier more often in those few days but then and there, at dinner, with his family, he recognised that his actions were different… and he didn’t feel like  _ he  _ was. It made him queasy, really. 

 

“This may surprise you, but it’s possible for even me to get tired of fighting and being defensive at all times,” Ezio laughed it off, taking another deep sip of wine. 

 

“Thank goodness for that,” Giovanni said. “Speaking of happier matters: your mother said you had suggested we invite di Ser Piero for dinner, in thanks.” Ezio did not like the chill of foreboding that crept up his spine. “And I must say, it sounds like an excellent idea, I look very much forward to meeting him. Do you know when it might be possible for him to visit?”

 

Ezio swallowed, put on a smile like he put on shoes and said, “Not too far into the future, I don’t think. At the end of the week, possibly. I can always ask him.”

 

“Please do, I believe we’re more flexible in this than he is, what with his — busy schedule. I don’t imagine it’s easy being so popular everybody wants a piece of you.”

 

“A privileged problem to have, really,” Ezio said. “One he handles admirably.”

 

“I’m only free Thursday,” Federico said, “Can we do it then? I would like to meet him to, if he lives up to even half of what I’ve heard so far.”

 

It was Monday night so about three days… shit, only three days. God, he only had three days to prepare both him and Leonardo to face the full force of suspicious Auditores. Three days to kiss as much as they possibly could because no way were they going to survive. 

 

“I’ll stop by and invite him tomorrow,” Ezio said. 

 

“ _ After  _ your lessons,” Giovanni stressed. 

 

Sigh. “Of course.” He paused. “So what happened when I was gone?”

 

* * *

 

The dinner had not gotten any less awkward after that, especially once his mother returned to see that Claudia had left them too. After hours of unbearable silence mottled with unbearable small talk and trying not to explode, closing his door behind him felt like a relief. For a moment, Ezio let himself lean his head back on it, close his eyes and simply breathe. Strange how sitting down and talking to people could exhaust him so, he felt as if he could sleep for days, if only so he could drop his guard and let his thoughts turn blank.  He had been agonising about going home to his family for days but still for it to go so —  _ ugh _ . 

 

He buried his head in his hands and groaned. It had started so well, with Federico, and Petruccio and even  _ mamma _ was happier with him than ever and then what happens? He could barely remember it all, much less try to find connections between why the various minor catastrophes happened. And what set it off?  _ Vegetarianism.  _ Not even that, but Petruccio being an inherently good and empathetic person, who didn’t wish to cause others harm, and saw vegetarianism as a good extension of that. Maybe Leonardo would get a good laugh out of that at least. 

 

He sighed, kicking his shoes off, and collapsed face down on the bed. Leonardo… 

 

_ I miss him.  _

 

He wished he was there, to touch his shoulder, stroke his hair, tell him something weird about physics, just to get his head off unpleasant things. He wished he had—

 

Ezio darted up as he remembered, taking his jerkin off  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and pulled his shirt over his head and let them both drop to the floor without a glance. He sat down in the chair by his vanity, lit a lantern there and putting it next to his mirror. There, now clear as day, was the glorious, red, purple hickey Leonardo had left, as well as multiple love bites visible over his torso and shoulders. There was even a spot on his left pectoral where the beard burn was still present, in the form of thin scratches guaranteed to sting if any sort of liquid came into contact with them. 

 

Visible reminders of why it was worth it, and what he had to look forward to. Of someone who cared for him deeply and communicated with him clearly, because he thought Ezio was important, and clever, neither of which Ezio was still sure of. Visible markers of the trust Ezio had put in him, and of the fact that it had been  _ real.  _ It had begun to feel more and more distant as the day grew on, like it hadn’t been entirely real. There was the proof of its authenticity, medallions testament to what they had shared. He would be alright. Gingerly, he touched the reddest mark, in the juncture of his neck and shoulder, wincing as the pressure caused a small twinge of pain to bloom. Leaning forward, towards the mirror, he dragged the pad of his thumb over the bottom lip, trying to recapture the feel of Leonardo doing the same, trying to remember the pressure of being kissed and what came after, when they were red, swollen, almost as if he had painted them. It was almost a surprise that he wasn’t bruised there too, not that they had been looking to cause pain for each other at all, but because they had both been so caught up in thinking that a simple thing like a kiss was an impossibility, that once they had the opportunity, they hadn’t been able to stop. 

 

Instead they took and gave over and over, unconsciously afraid that any one kiss would be the last one. The reality though, was that they would have many more last kisses in the future. Kisses goodbye, hello, and just because. Because he wanted to, because he could, because it was and felt good. Because it was worth it, anything they risked was worth it.

 

Turns out one risk, having to face his family while Leonardo was there, and have them most likely interrogate Leonardo as if he was a murder suspect, was a risk that had turned into reality, and would soon become fully actualised. It was going to happen, it was inevitable, they would have to deal with it. They could and would do it since, as sappy as it made him feel, Ezio felt as if he could do anything, as long as he wasn’t alone. He only hoped Leonardo was ready, and would think it worth the risk.

 

Because even as excruciating as it would likely be… Ezio couldn’t, in a way, wait to show Leonardo off. If he could, he would scream for days that this is him, this is the man I love and he cares about me too, see how amazing he is, how wonderful he is, I’m the luckiest man in the world and I’m going to heap love and affection over him because he deserves it and I love him. He would bare his neck if he could, walk arm and arm with him always if he could, kiss him everywhere if he could. He would take the little things. Show him off as a friend, say this is my best and most treasured friend whom I am privileged to know. That is what they would hear and believe to be true and Leonardo — would know what he meant. And that was enough.

 

This was a situation he could handle and somewhat control, and an issue that could be if not solved then, again, handled. It was not the end of the world, despite his still present sense of melodrama wailing that  _ yes it is, we’re going to get caught and Giovanni and mamma will murder us with the family sword _ \- did they have a family sword or had he conjured that thought out of nothing? Not important.

 

A world that had ended though was—

 

Ezio stilled, then dropped his hand away from his neck. He leaned back and away from the mirror, looking himself in the eye. Face it, say it, confront it-

 

He couldn’t. He looked away and out the window, into the dark, cloudy night sky. Claudia had been right, for once, and still he had gone away from that dining room thinking not of the truth of her words, or of the two lives he had aided in turning over completely, but of himself. Still staring out into the vast nothing, lit only by a scant few flickering flames outside, spread out across the city in their iron lanterns, he pressed his thumb down on the bruise by his neck and let the pain blossom fully. He knew an apology would only help him make himself better — what he needed was to make amends, except… how? He, the orchestrator of the mess in the first place, could not possibly change their father’s mind. He couldn’t undo his actions, he couldn’t very well spirit Rachele away from the nunnery she had apparently been thrown into like a criminal into a prison and expect her life to be uphill from there. What would he offer as an alternative, a life in a brothel? Begging on the street? A new identity in a new city, forever cut off from her family? Offer to switch her out with her sister and pray no one would notice?

 

… That might work if they were twins. He didn’t know for sure, he had to check. Dumb idea, but still in the game, technically. Then, of course, he could always just… 

 

Ezio swallowed, sighed, then let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. Of course he would turn to “if they’re twins I could make a switch” before he considered  _ asking  _ them how he could make amends. A bit, or a lot, unfair to lay the matter of amends in their hands although, all things considered, superior to not letting them have a choice, as that was what landed them in their nightmare in the first place. Or, second place, since Ezio was the first thing that fucked it all up. Him and his complete lack of emotional maturity and ability to handle vulnerability which he had taken out on a girl he didn’t know. 

 

Hell. Why did Leonardo like him again? He turned to the mirror once more, and his reflection had not changed.  He wouldn’t know unless he asked. With another sigh that turned into a yawn, he abandoned his miserable trail of thoughts and went to bed, as there was not much else to do before day broke, and he had lessons. Only then could he even begin to accomplish something. Half an hour after he laid down on his bed, not even bothering to get under the covers or take off his trousers, trying desperately not to think about his previous thoughts, failed, he fell asleep, and slept poorly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not making claudia a villain and i hope it doesn't seem like it? she's a teenage girl dealing with HEAVY EMOTIONAL AND IMPORTANT ISSUES and since im a teen for another half a year or so i can tell you that teens are bad with Coping. they lash out, find someone to blame, are quick to condemn and are usually completely valid in their reason for being angry, it's that they're Shit at expressing it in a constructive way. ezio should be called out, and their parents should be called out, she just doesn't know how to really like..... do that, in a good way yet. we'll get there. you know how every sibling is convinced they aren't the favourite sibling and someone else is? and they don't see always ways that their parents are unfair or shit to their siblings too and think they're the only ones treated poorly? ...yeah. Yeah. 
> 
> also shout out if you get why petruccio went IGHT IMMA HEAD OUT
> 
> also also yayy rachele will make an appearance soon! i'm the only one excited about this but eh. i'm excited for her sister to Whoop Ezio's Ass though. good fkn times


	20. are you kidding me? chapter 20? this story was supposed to be DONE in 20 chapters and i'm only at the halfwat point smfh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heavy stuff folks!! the brothers get into a verbal fist fight! in leo's house! grab the fucking popcorn bc ezio has a lot of shit to say about how much he hates what society wants him to be and leo just says okay we're all dying bitch i'm gonna get you some fruit and cheese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a wild ride to write!! a very wild ride!! originally ezio was just going to YEET himself to leo's house, make out a bit, then try to find out which nunnery rachele lives in. but rachele has to wait for another few chapters or smth (we're over 205 pages now... god. *sobs*) bc Federico entered stage right. said hey i'm gonna be a good brother now ok. and i said ok. and then i remembered that ah! siblings don't know how to communicate. they have a long overdue F I G H T !! scheduled. 
> 
> ezio, seeing another family telling him to Square Up: ah shit here we go again
> 
> also forewarning that this ends on a cliffhanger but this baby got 7k words long so ha ha... yeah

Lessons were thankfully done in separate rooms and breakfast served in bed. Undoubtedly in an attempt to keep all children separate, with a particular focus on Ezio and Claudia. Ezio, who had plenty of inner turmoil do deal with without another confrontation with his sister, rejoiced in this. Or, was quietly relieved in grateful for at least this minor act of sympathy and consideration. It was more likely an act to prevent another headache for either of his parents, but he would take what kindness he could get. 

 

Petruccio though — that was another story. Ezio couldn’t say that his brother was avoiding him, since him being confined to his room under the watchful hawk eyes of his governess wasn’t an unusual state of affairs. But when he had seen him around noon, just to say hello and ask how he was… Petruccio had looked nervous, and slipped away with nary more than a “fine, thank you”. It was bizarre, to say the least. What captured his thoughts more though, staring out the window onto the street outside, standing in the courtyard looking up, eyes chasing the sun, was how slowly time passed when you were waiting for something good.

 

Reading words that made sense and were written in the correct direction and not in  _ code  _ was almost strange. Apparently he and Federico were the only two siblings allowed to interact at all, since their last lesson was taken together. Their tutor — a stodgy old man who was far to fond of saying “back in my day” and dragged out the word Lord long enough to sound like he was groaning ( _ looooooooord _ ) (was he coming? Was that what it was? Sounded a bit like it. Or, not even a bit, a  _ lot _ ) — had them trapped reading a book on maths, which was terrible enough for Ezio to wish he was doing latin grammar instead. To think that soon he would be all alone doing this, with Federico studying actual important things at a university, leaving Ezio alone to be more swiftly caught when he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Today, it was mild, it had been a long while since he had properly pranked a tutor, but he was bouncing his leg like his life depended on it, scratching his nails against the fabric of his trousers to get his leg to calm down and not make the table rattle. Old Stodge was too in love with the sound of his own voice to notice it. Federico, however, kept shooting him dirty looks because of it.

 

Ezio pretended not to notice, looking back out the window again instead. A ball of paper hit him in the head and he whirled around to see Federico angrily mouth “ _ stop _ ”. Ezio did the proper grown up thing to do, and stuck his tongue out. 

 

“Though I wish I could go on forever about geometry—,” oh, he bet he could, the boring old wanker, “—I’m afraid that concludes our lesson for today. I hope you will continue this reading on your own time, I promise it becomes even more fascinating as it goes on.”

 

“Thank you, messere,” Federico said, calmly rising and shutting his book. 

 

“Yeah, thank you, riveting stuff, sure is,” Ezio said, already on his way out the door. 

 

“Ezio, hold on,” Federico called after him. Ezio looked back at him, but kept walking.

 

“What’s up, Rico.” He hoped he knew his way to the kitchens. He hadn’t actually been there before. He had vague memories of sneaking there as a kid. but that was ages ago, when everything around him was three times as large and the whole villa the size of a castle.

 

“Don’t fucking call me Rico— I wanted to see if you were alright before you run off. You know, how you always run off nowadays?”

 

“As if I haven’t been ‘running off’ for years now?”

 

“That’s different,” Federico insisted. “I used to be able to find you, always, whenever you did that. Lately, you’ve been a ghost. Not that that’s much of a mystery anymore, since I guess you’re always running to di Ser Piero, right?”

 

Immediately his hackles were up. He skid to a stop and turned face to face with his brother, who was looking carefully neutral and still, and straightened out his back as well as he could in a futile effort to look taller. He knew that this was the tension talking. He knew that it was the still pent up anger, sadness and frustration he hadn't had the opportunity to fully express the night before at play, he knew he shouldn't be taking his feelings out this way. And yet, he said, “Don’t tell me you’re going to give me shit for that, too,” he hissed. “Bad enough father and Claudia don’t believe me and mother is still being skeptical; don’t tell me you’re doubting my worth too.”

 

Federico frowned. “What? That’s not what I—”

 

“I know it’s what you all think, I may be dumb but I do have  _ some _ sense,” he said. “I know you’re all wondering why he would give me the time of day when he’s so accomplished and everything you’re supposed to be, while I’m the human equivalent of a cart crash. I  _ know _ , because I’ve wondered that, too. But it’s not up to you to judge or decide, I’m doing what I can to make sure I deserve him- his friendship. You get to interrogate him all you want on Thursday, so save all your prying questions for that.”

 

“Yeah you’re stupid,” Federico said. “Because you keep putting words in my mouth! What the  _ hell _ , Ezio? You think that’s my opinion of you? Is that what you think of me? I have to say, it hurts to hear that you think I would have that low of an opinion on you. I don’t know him, except for what I’ve heard from you and mother. I don’t care about if you deserve him or whatever, I was just wondering what he’s done to deserve  _ you. _ I don’t know him I know you, and I know you’re more than you know. No, shut up,” he said when Ezio tried to butt in. “I’m older, smarter, and more experienced. I know more than you. You’re worth more than you think. Clearly, your friend believes it, too. What I was building up to before you decided to have this talk that you should really have with father instead, because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s really great at pretending not to be a dick,” Ezio snorted, “Was that, I want to go with you. Now, to invite di Ser Piero.”

 

Oh.

 

_ Oh. _

 

Irrationally, (or rather, rationally), his first thought was that shit, he wouldn’t get to kiss Leonardo. The second, more important thought, was that he was touched. Genuine warmth spread through his chest from his heart, and he could feel his muscles relax and he backed off to give them both space to breathe. Federico wanted to come with him… to meet the person Ezio cared about… and he thought Ezio was valuable. That was — surprisingly emotional between the two of them, usually Federico could be even more stubborn than he with not talking about his feelings. As he had a role of future head of the family to think about, and all. Maybe Ezio wasn’t the only one growing up.

 

“I’d like that. He’d like that. I mean, sure. You can come. Whatever,” Ezio said, determinedly not looking at his brother. “I just have to go to the kitchen first.”

 

“Uh-uh, sure,” Federico said. Whatever emotional honesty had first been on display there was now locked away again, since he was too embarrassed with having shown actual thoughts and feelings. Ezio would know, he felt that way as well. “… why?”

 

“Wine,” Ezio said. “For Leonardo. I drank a whole bottle. Probably more. Promised I’d get it replaced as soon as possible, so I thought why not now?”

 

Federico held up a hand to block his mouth from view, but Ezio could still see the grin creeping up by the way his eyes narrowed. “So you crashed his house without warning, ate his food, drank more than a bottle of wine and slept there for two nights, while sick?” He gave up all pretence of laughing and pulled his hand away, shoulders shaking. “I don’t get how anyone can doubt your friendship — if anyone but my best friend did that, I would kill them. No hesitation, that’s an execution level offence.”

 

Ezio couldn’t help it- he snorted. “See, I always knew you were capable of being smart if you just tried.”

 

“Idiot recognises idiot,” Federico shrugged. Ezio laughed. 

 

* * *

 

Maria the maid was a whole lot of pretending-not-to-be-suspicious-of-her-employers’-sons at the request for wine, right up until Ezio said it was for Leonardo. At which point, they got three bottles, an embroidered napkin, a loaf of  bread, a bustle of apples and enough well wishes and greetings that would have made Ezio  _ majorly  _ jealous if Leonardo had been even a little into women. Had it been anyone else getting all of that, he would asked “when’s the wedding?”. The cook was in on it, too, since Ezio  _ saw  _ her give Maria a wink when she handed over the bread. 

 

“For how long did Leonardo talk to her?” Ezio asked his brother once on their way, an insistent smile tugging at his lips.   “Considering she’s basically proposing.”   
  


“Nothing basically about it,” Federico said wryly. “But — a minute? Maybe two?”

 

Ezio sniggered. “Oy vey, the burden of good looks and charm.”

 

“Such a cruel lot God hath given us in life,” Federico sighed, sarcasm betrayed by his struggle not to grin. “Wish we didn’t have so many things to carry though, or we could have raced there.”

 

“True,” Ezio concurred, “But I think Leonardo will just be grateful that he doesn’t have  _ two  _ maniacs entering through his window. He’s barely gotten used to having one.”

 

Federico barked out a laugh. “You go in through the  _ window _ ? Before or after becoming friends?”

 

“I’d prefer to say we were friends at first sight,” Ezio sniffed. 

 

“Friends at first  _ fright _ ,” Federico said. 

 

“Shut the fuck up. That was awful.”

 

“All puns are,” Federico said, not in the least bit sorry.

 

Despite their moaning about not being able to race, it did not take long to reach Leonardo’s home, as close to their villa as it was. For once, Ezio decided to knock; he hoped it would let Leonardo believe it was someone else, and prepare himself more to open it like he would with anyone but Ezio. After some moments passed without the door opening, though, he had to abandon that strategy. 

 

“Perhaps he’s out,” Federico said. 

 

Ezio snorted. “Yeah, no. Watch,” then he turned the door handle. It was t locked. “He’s a bit ditzy, but he does lock it when going somewhere.”

 

His brother looked pained. “Don’t tell me you’re going to barge in just because it’s open.”

 

“Alright,” Ezio said, then opened the door and walked in anyway to the sound of Federico groaning in exasperation behind him. With Leonardo not answering the door, though not having it locked, likely meant he was completely lost in whatever he was doing, most likely upstairs. Looking quickly around the open (in the loosest sense of the word) space only confirmed it. 

 

“Let’s get all this to the kitchen,” Ezio said. “Come on.”

 

“Oh  _ shit _ ,” Federico was saying instead of listening to him. Ezio turned back to see his brother looking around the workshop with his mouth hanging open. 

 

“You get used to it, I swear,” he said. 

 

“There’s so much  _ stuff _ ,” Federico said, still not listening to Ezio. “How does he find anything?”

 

“Freakishly good memory,” Ezio said honestly. “Now come on.” This time Federico did follow, and they put down everything on the workbench for Leonardo to clear away later wherever he wanted it. 

 

“You can snoop around or something while I try to drag him out of his own head,” Ezio told Federico, who was again looking around the room in parts wonder, parts horror. He went to look at one of the open notebooks and began to look even more confused. 

 

“What kind of writing is this?” Federico waved a hand at the offending notebook like one might try to bat away an insect. 

 

“He’s left-handed,” Ezio said. “So it’s mirror-writing, to not smudge the ink.”

 

Federico pulled a face. “He wasn’t trained out of it?”

 

“We were lucky enough to have actual tutors for that,” Ezio said, tone short. “He didn’t.”

 

Federico put up his hands. “Alright, no offence meant.” He continued to wander, gaze drawn to different things seemingly at random. Ezio turned to head upstairs, but stopped when he saw the easel had been given a new oak panel. Curious, he went up to inspect it — Leonardo must have begun working on it the day before. 

 

The typical background of chalk was there, bright white and now dry, but only the vague beginnings of the initial sketch was visible. Enough to tell of the looming figure of a man holding a spear and shield, gazing out over some undefined mass or scene. Likely a commission from the Medici; they sure liked paintings of power, a motif that was clear even with only the sparest of lines being done. 

 

“Is this you?”

 

Ezio looked up, snapped out of his transfixion. “What?”

 

Federico was gesturing at someone on one of the tables. There’s this sketch that looks like you here.” He let out a soft laugh. “You should ask di Piero if you can take it with you, show Claudia some proof you’re not lying.”

 

Ezio headed over to his brother, letting out a snort of laughter. “If anyone would claim I miraculously learned how to draw just to create an alibi, it would be Claudia.” Then he looked at the sketch and any laughter died in his throat. 

 

It was from the day he had posed for Leonardo in a chair; he had been so preoccupied with the sun, the sensations, and Leonardo himself that he had forgotten to ask to see it. Strange that it would lay out for Federico to find it. Either Leonardo kept it close at hand at all times or — less likely, but he was hoping it was true, even though both ideas made his heart flutter and do backflips in his chest — he had missed Ezio just as much as Ezio missed him the night before, and had taken the sketch out to be reminded of him. The way Ezio had gone over each and every love bite. And the way it was drawn… fuck. 

 

If Ezio hadn’t recognised his own face in profile, eyes closed and head tilted up, propped on his closed fist, elbow on the armrest, he wouldn’t have known. Leonardo hadn’t just captured his pose, he had captured the feeling there in the room, sketched out some of the background, caught the shading from the sun perfectly, making its warmth apparent in the long shadows and most well lit parts. He had to have been flattering him too, with how, dare he say it, perfect he had made Ezio look. Relaxed, quiet, soothing and confident without being obnoxious. 

 

“You were right, he really is good,” his brother said. Ezio nodded, not looking away. “Yeah.” 

 

Leonardo had drawn him with such devastating love it made his breath hitch and eyes sting. He had to go, he had to catch him before he noticed he wasn’t as alone as he believed and came downstairs, because Ezio had a very serious need to show him just how much he loved the sketch. 

 

“Keep looking, I swear it’s all this excellent,” maybe so, but emotionally it was impossible to compare, “I’ll go get him, for real this time.”

 

“Sure. I’ll just keep snooping, I suppose,” Federico said. 

 

Up the stairs, up the stairs. He had to fight against his own body to keep himself from sprinting up there at top speed, three steps at a time, screaming with pure emotion. Again, now so close, he was hit with how much he had looked forward to being close to Leonardo again. Up the stairs, up the stairs, one step at a time, one two, one two. Finally, oh finally, he was up and his head swirled around looking for Leonardo. By his desk, engrossed in work, a mirror of just a few days ago, when Ezio had been even less expected. He quickly swept forward to stand right in front of the desk and said, with a tone of voice otherwise reserved for great announcements, said “Loverboy.”

 

A blinking and confused Leonardo lifted his head up, before he immediately brightened in joy at seeing Ezio. “ _ Ezio _ ,” he said his name like a prayer. Then, more humorously, “Are you taking a page out of Aurelia’s book?”

 

“Love, I will call you anything, as long as it’s true about you. Boy, and lover, that’s you. I’m loverboy too. But you’re the only loverboy for me.”

 

A soft, fond look overtook Leonardo's features. “Never expected you to be so cheesy,” he said. “Then again, it’s so irritatingly charming I don’t mind.”

 

Ezio walked around the desk to be closer to Leonardo, standing flush to his left side, the chair pressing into his leg. “Permission to kiss you senseless before my brother comes upstairs?”

 

A laugh. “Granted, enthusiastically so.”

 

He wasted no time leaning down to press his lips against Leonardo’s, sliding a hand into his hair and another down his flank, while Leonardo gripped his hips. It took no time at all for Leonardo to open his mouth and invite Ezio in and God, he could live in that moment, of their closeness, of the completely lack of hesitation before they both opened themselves up, ready and willing to become as close to one as two could be. Except then the warmth lessened as Leonardo pulled back and them apart.

 

“What do you mean  _ your brother _ ?”

 

Oh shit, yeah. “My brother’s downstairs because he wanted to meet you. I came to bring you back some wine, and I couldn’t give him a good reason not to say yes when he asked if he could come.”

 

Leonardo’s eyes widened. “He wanted to  _ meet _ — what have you told him?!”

 

“Nothing!” Ezio protested immediately, understanding what it was Leonardo feared. Retribution for corrupting his younger brother or something else horrifying, likely. “Except for how amazing you are. And that you’re my best friend. And that I love spending time here. And some other things. He wanted to see if you’re as great as everyone says.”

 

Leonardo closed his eyes with a sigh and leaned forward, forehead to Ezio’s stomach, with Ezio stroking his hair. “No pressure, I’m sure,” Leonardo said. Ezio chuckled. 

 

“You’ll be great, you always are,” he reassured him. “I’m more worried about Thursday, since uhm. My parents have invited you over for dinner.”

 

Leonardo whined. 

 

“Completely fair and understandable reaction,” Ezio said. “I was ready to start throwing chairs.”

 

“It’s not that I’m not flattered, or don’t appreciate it,” Leonardo said. “I am sure it would be quite nice. If I hadn’t, from your previous statements, gathered that your home is a bit of a war zone at the moment, and I fear I would be a match thrown into a powder keg. Explosion is inevitable, what the debris will pierce and destroy is unpredictable.”

 

“They’ll either turn you against me or use you against me,” Ezio said. “Prepare to be needled like an angry girl’s embroidery either way.”

 

Leonardo wheezed out a short thing that might have been laughter. “I’m sure we’ll live,” he said. He pulled back his head to look up and into Ezio’s eyes, soft and fond despite the surely terrible angle he saw him in. “We’ve both faced worse without anyone on our side. This time, you have me, and I you.”

 

Heat rose as quick as steam to Ezio’s cheeks, neck and ears. He looked up and away to fight against the enchantment Leonardo was putting him under without even trying, convincing him that they’d be fine with each other, and nothing terrible could possibly befall them. He wanted to believe it, but someone had to maintain their sanity, and so he looked away and fought a smile. “You sap,” he said. “How are you this sappy after only a day?”

 

Leonardo took Ezio’s hand and pressed a kiss against his palm, taking the hand and pushing his cheek into it. “Because I haven’t known you for only a day.”

 

His neck got steadily hotter. Leonardo twisted his lips upwards, and pressed another kiss to his palms. “Pretty words and poetry are so much easier to give than receive, aren’t they?” Such a pretty way to say, you sure didn’t seem flustered when whispering sweet nothings to me yesterday. 

 

“My brother is still downstairs”, Ezio said, which was easier than saying yes. “Best get down before he comes up to investigate.”

 

Leonardo sighed and stood up. “Of course.” He pressed his lips against Ezio’s, chaste and gone too soon. “Some other time.”

 

Ezio pulled the neckline of his shirt to the side, showing the love bite there and delighting in the shocked and a little embarrassed face Leonardo pulled. “At least I’m lucky enough to have a memento, in the meanwhile.”

 

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” Leonardo said. “I got quite carried away, I didn’t mean to make a mark that bad.”

 

“I loved it,” Ezio reassured him. “I would have stopped you if I didn’t. Trust me.”

 

“God help me,” Leonardo said, “I do.” And from the sound of him, he did not regret that at all.

 

* * *

 

Federico was eyeing the easel, much like Ezio had, though his eye was much more considering and apprehensive than Ezio’s sheer awe had been. He was judging Leonardo’s skills, and it did not appear as if he found him wanting, but rather that he found him to indeed be quite skilled, but was reserving the rest of his judgement for when he had a proper estimate of Leonardo’s character. Not an unwise move, and one of the few good things their father had taught them; to not assume that simply because a man was skilled in his craft meant that he could or should be trusted, or even liked. When he saw them coming down the stairs, he straightened his back and put on his best and most charming smile for outsiders, the one even Ezio might believe to be genuine if he didn’t know him so well. Goddamnit, Federico. Was he suspicious, or just awkward?

 

“The famous messere di Ser Piero!” Federico said and oh God Ezio was going to punch him,  _ what was he doing. _ Federico held out his hand for Leonardo to shake which they did, Federico’s weird grimace still in place. “Feels strange to finally meet you after Ezio’s told us so much. Feels like I already know you!”

 

Leonardo smiled, his much more real, though there was a strain around the corner of his eye imperceptible to everyone except people standing right next to him. “Please, call me Leonardo,” he said. “It’s less of a tongue twister, I’ve found.”

 

“Only if you promise to call me Federico,” his brother said. God this was weird. This was so fucking weird. What was happening, why had he agreed to this. It felt as if two worlds were colliding and didn’t quite fit, and Ezio did not like it at all.

 

“I shall,” Leonardo said. “After all, it would be strange to say Ezio, then turn around and say messere Auditore.”

 

“Yeah, I’d look over my shoulder and go ‘father? Where’?” Ezio said, and the three of them all chuckled disingenuously. Oh  _ God _ have mercy on his soul and strike him down where he stood.

 

“About that,” Federico said, “What are you doing on Thursday evening?”

 

“Working, I suppose,” Leonardo replied, playing it safe, “How so?”

 

“Well, with how kind you were to help Ezio when his dumb ass got sick for running out into the rain—” “ _ Hey! _ ” “—and how close the two of you are, our parents would both like to repay that kindness, and perhaps get to know you more, over dinner.”

 

“How kind! I promise though, it was no trouble at all, I would do it again in a heartbeat,” Leonardo said, looking at Ezio. The skin on Ezio’s neck, right where the bite was, tingled with electricity. “Though naturally, I will gladly accept your invitation. From how well I know your mother, I know better than to refuse.”

 

Federico snorted. “Smart. Great, we’ll love to have you over.”

 

“Oh by the way,” Ezio cut in, happy that the conversation had turned somewhat normal, but fearful of any potential stiff silences, “I brought some wine to repay what I drank of yours,” he told Leonardo, who raised his brows. 

 

“That was quicker than expected, but not an unwelcome surprise,” he said.

 

“Are you kidding? As if I would be lazy when it’s about  _ wine _ ,” Ezio joked. “It’s in the kitchen, come on.” He tugged on Leonardo’s sleeve and got him to come with him without any fuss, except for Leonardo switching it so that they were loosely holding hands instead, likely to save the fabric of his doublet.

 

“Don’t forget to mention the courting gifts,” came Frederico’s voice from behind them.

 

“Excuse me, what?” Leonardo asked, voice unusually high.

 

“The maid you said was so nice?” Ezio asked. Leonardo nodded. “Well, she wanted me to give you her bestest warmestest greetings and well wishes and general good vibes and hopes that the wine and other things are to your satisfaction and that you’re thinking of her when you drink it.”

 

Leonardo looked mildly disturbed.

 

“She didn’t say that last part,” Ezio amended. “But that was the general sentiment. Essentially, ‘wow messere Leonardo di Ser Piero da Vinci you’re so handsome and talented and kind, marry me this instant’.”

 

“Hush, don’t be unkind,” Leonardo said, even while flushing profusely. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” Then they were in the kitchen, where the aforementioned bounty was on display. “Oh.”

 

Ezio laughed. “Yeah,  _ oh. _ ” He held Leonardo by the shoulder and clapped him on the chest, turned to his brother. “As I keep telling this handsome man here, we’re all lucky he’s got so many morals or we wouldn’t stand a chance next to him.”

 

Federico nodded appreciatively, “If you’re able to resist all offers this easily you ought to be more pious than the Pope.”

 

Leonardo huffed a breath of amusement, “You’re too kind. The reality, rather, is that I enjoy my work so much I have little time left over for socialisation.”

 

“So you spend it with my brother here.” Ezio looked at Federico with wary eyes at that. His brother was still smiling, but there was an edge to it, a firmness in the closed mouth grin and the tight grip he held on his own arms, crossed as they were, that spoke of withheld action; trying not to start a fight, or winding himself up for one. Leonardo had seen it too, for he stood straight now hands by his sides, instead of crossed, holding something, leaned or pressed against something else, wringing — nothing. He needed to be able to throw them up quickly. Ezio didn’t know if it was instinctive or a calculated action. Leonardo wasn’t a man of violence, and Ezio doubted he had ever actually found himself in a fight he couldn’t talk his way out of or run off from. He didn’t get into many fights, period. Not like Federico who could flatten him if given even one sliver of a second of hesitation, and Ezio didn’t even know if he could be in time to stop him entirely.

 

“He couldn’t get me to leave if he tried,” Ezio said, feeling a need to salvage whatever peace had gone from whatever it was Federico had gotten into his head. “You know how — exhausting home has been for me lately, and old habits, my friends, aren’t really that good of a distraction anymore, so… yeah. I like it here, like Leonardo here?” He gestured to Leonardo with his thumb. “Has books that are  _ interesting _ . Can you believe it? I almost couldn’t. Did you know mumia is made of mummified human flesh?”

 

Federico pulled a face and blinked once, twice, disoriented from Ezio’s sudden shift in conversation. “It’s what?”

 

“Mumia, the medicine mamma always gave us, especially as kids! It’s human flesh!”

 

Federico looked queasy. “I didn’t know, actually,” he said. “Are you serious?”

 

“ _ Yes _ I know, it’s so weird! I read it in a book about medicine — you know those potions the doctor gives us? Cure alls? That’s mostly just really strong alcohol and nothing else.”

 

“That explains a few things,” Federico said. “Like the headache you get the morning after, even if you weren’t hurt anywhere near your head. That I always  _ did  _ say feel like a hangover. Shit.”

 

“Right?! Like drinking and whoring in all its glory, but I’ve done so much of that already, I wanna learn more weird shit like that,” Ezio said empathetically. “And you know, avoid our parents and Claudia, which is more of a bonus than anything.”

 

There was the violent look again. Ezio had a niggling feeling, that felt a lot like thorns being rolled against the skin of his neck, sharp, but not pressed deep enough to puncture. A feeling, which said that the furious gleam in Federico’s eyes had more to do with him than Leonardo. Ezio locked eyes with Leonardo. Nothing significant to anyone looking in, just a flickering meeting of eyes, and gave him a little smile, a nod towards the door. He hoped it was enough to get the message across.

 

“Bonus?” Federico repeated, still smiling, only with his jaw locked tight enough to grind bone to dust.

 

“You know what,” Leonardo said, bright and cheery and suddenly right in the middle between the two brothers, “How about I go get us something to have with this bread and wine — like cheese, or figs maybe — and we can all have a nice moment with that later? Federico I’m sure you have plenty of embarrassing stories about Ezio to share, I’d love to hear them. There are a few stands right nearby it won’t take long, between a quarter hour and,” he looked at them both again, “a full hour, perhaps, depending on the line. Why don’t the two of you stay here, get comfortable; Ezio I would love to hear your thoughts on my current project later, feel free to look around my workshop. Get started on the wine, both of you, do as you please, and I’ll leave the two of you be.”

 

Not as smooth in execution as it could have been but damn, Ezio could kiss him. Wanted to, desperately, because Leonardo was so smart and perceptive and had perfectly understood what Ezio was trying to say. He hated to drive Leonardo out of his own home like this, but he hated the thought of him becoming further involved even more, and taking things outside would only give them more future consequences to worry about. 

 

Leonardo left silently, but for the slam of the door behind him, which set off fire in his veins as clear as the ringing off a bell. He didn’t even think before he was right in front of his brother, finger pointing at his face close enough to feel the breath coming out of his nose.

 

“What the  _ hell _ , what the FUCK are you doing?” he hissed. “Don’t think I don’t know that look, you looked like you were a second away from starting a fight in someone else’s  _ home _ . What’s wrong with you!?”

 

Federico’s face twisted, ugly and raw, but surprisingly, he fought down a snarl, and let his hands fall to his side, clenching them, but he didn’t raise them. “I’m not angry at your friend, I’m angry with  _ you, _ ” he said. “How much shit have you told him about our family? Calling getting away from home a  _ bonus  _ as a  _ joke _ ; what kind of things have you said?”

 

Confused, though no less angry, Ezio stepped back, finger down. “None of your business. I’ve been confiding in him, it’s what friends do.”

 

“Of course it’s my business! It’s about our family! What shit goes on there is supposed to  _ stay _ there, if you need to vent you do so in a confession booth!”

 

“What, and get the same kind of shit I get from our parents? Our sister? It’s all my fault, I’m full of sin, family first, cleanse your thoughts, forgive anything fucked up anyone ever says or does? That’s not constructive, that won’t make me learn or do differently the next time, that won’t make me feel better — Leonardo helps me! He cares!”

 

“ _ I  _ care!” Federico yelled, slamming a fist against his own chest. “I care! I’m your brother, Ezio! It’s us against the world, and sometimes that means the rest of our family; you used to confide everything in me, what happened to that? What happened to that? When did you decide that a stranger was more trustworthy than your own flesh and blood.”

 

It hurt to hear, it hurt, and he got it. He hadn’t thought about what Federico would think, if he would believe it meant Ezio didn’t trust him anymore. He understood, but that didn’t mean that Federico was  _ right. _ “He’s not more trustworthy, it is exactly because he  _ isn’t  _ flesh and blood. We’re all so close to each other and in each others’ faces all the time that we forget how other people think or would do. No one can make us more crazy than each other because if we don’t listen to someone else’s perspective every once in a while we would just circle through the same crisis over and over again and not know what to do!”

“We’ve been having the same issues for _years_ and every time it’s the same thing! We get in trouble, we fight our way out, we get shit from our parents, Claudia rolls her eyes. I put my dick where I shouldn’t, you cheer me on, our parents give me shit, Claudia rolls her eyes and then we cheer each other on some more. Claudia gets her heart broken and you or I beat the dumb boy up, papà gives us shit, then it happens again. Our parents find fault in us for no reason, or do us some injustice, papà does — shit and we get angry, comfort each other but let them get away with it, then it happens again. And it happens again. And it happens again and again and we don’t get wiser, we don’t learn, we do it again, the same things, stuck in this pattern of shitty behaviour and I’m sick of it!”

 

“Then talk to us about it!” Federico cried. “Talk to  _ me _ , tell me! You haven’t even tried, you’ve just made me guess, or given me the most insignificant details, you haven’t told me a thing about how tired you are of this, how was I supposed to know you feel this way if you don’t tell me? You’re making it sound as if all our family ever does is argue, as if there’s nothing good about us at all! Do you even wish to be part of it? Do you care what happens to the rest of us? Arguing is part of all families, but you know that that’s not all we are!”

 

“Yeah, yeah, sometimes good things happen, we do something good or whatever, and it’s all alright for a while, everything is alright, maybe we can all like each other again. Before some bullshit happens again and we repeat the cycle.” He put a hand to his heart, a vow and a sign of truth both, hardly even hearing Federico at this point. “I’m breaking it, I’m doing it right now. I’m friends with someone our parents didn’t introduce me to for appearances’ sake whose parents they’re friends with, I’m not being macho for the sake of it, I’m not sleeping around the way  _ papà  _ actually  _ told  _ me I should because he was afraid I would be — unmanly or whatever, only to then give me shit for doing what he told me to. I’m not partying, because that’s what good looking young men do, I didn’t ask Cristina to marry me because that’s what I was expected to do and I  _ hated  _ that, and she wanted it just because she was supposed to, and I hated that. I’m doing things for  _ me. _ For once in my life, I’m doing what everyone’s always been accusing me of, and being  _ selfish _ and  _ I love it. _ ”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about, whoa life sucks because I’m forced to  _ party?  _ To fool around?! Are you hearing yourself, you’ve never  _ once _ acted like you hated any of that! Are you seriously asking people to feel sorry for you because you had  _ fun? _ You’re living the dream, according to everyone else out there! Papà never had to force you!”

 

“Don’t act as if you know what he has or hasn’t done to me! Of course no one  _ forced me _ but what else do you call constantly encouraging me to, constantly telling me it’s normal, it’s what boys do, this is what boys enjoy, this is what you’re supposed to enjoy, and the one time I try to do something else I’m told I’m worthless? Stupid, disgusting and selfish, hardly even a man at all, were I not family I would be hanged — and then I go to church and I’m told the same thing about what a  _ man _ is supposed to be. And everywhere everyone’s saying what makes a man, and this is what a man is, and being anything other than a man is shameful! I wasn’t forced, no, not in so many words — I was  _ taught. _ To act this way. I was taught! But all I ever get for doing what I’m supposed to is shit anyway, and I hurt people without meaning to, I don’t want to, but everybody acts like I’m supposed to know what the consequences would be for the women I sleep with despite not ever teaching me what they would be. Or how I can make amends, so I’m just stuck.  _ Stuck _ .”

 

He drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry you feel I can’t trust you, I’m sorry I haven’t shown that I do. But I feel like you’re stuck in this whole thing too, except it looks different for you, because you’re firstborn so you have all these other things to deal with on top of the shit I have. You’re supposed to keep the system going, not break it, and I need help breaking free. And I think — you need help with that, too. Or maybe you don’t, maybe you’re happy the way you are and think things are perfect and shouldn’t change and I’m being stupid and—”

 

Then he couldn’t say anything else, because Federico had tugged him close by his shirt collar and locked him into possibly the strongest grip he’d ever been hugged. His ribs were even protesting, and it was weird because he couldn’t see Federico’s face but he could hear and feel him take deep, wet, shuddering breaths, the same kind Ezio was gasping for. 

 

“God fucking damn it Ezio,” his brother said. “I wish you had told me.” Another deep breath, “of course I don’t want you to — stagnate, or feel like you have to be one thing, I’m sorry I didn’t know you hated it.”

 

“I didn’t even know,” Ezio confessed. “And I didn’t, I didn’t hate it, until I realised what I was doing meant for everyone else, and I realised I hated myself, and realised I didn’t really choose any of it because I was only doing what papà told me to, because I didn’t want him to think I was a failure.”

 

“You aren’t,” Federico said vehemently. “You aren’t. You’re dumb as shit, but not a failure.”

 

Ezio laughed, wet and ugly and full of gross snot he was glad Leonardo wasn’t there to see. “I’m sorry you thought I was only talking shit about our family to Leonardo,” he said. “I mean, I have. A little bit, but not about you or Petruccio, and barely any about Claudia. And not a lot, because talking about emotions  _ suck. _ ”

 

Federico’s turn to laugh. He squeezed Ezio even harder, which made him grunt in pain, but he didn’t want to be let go. “Fuck, they do. Ugh. One more thing and then we can go back to pretending to be tough.”

 

“You’re only pretending?”

 

“Shut up, idiot,” his brother said fondly. “I’m curious about what you did that made our father so furious with you.”

 

Ezio felt his blood turn to ice. Turn cold and freeze within his veins, making him shock still, afraid to move. 

 

“Ezio?”   
  


“It’s not a little thing, Rico,” he said hoarsely, voice almost a whisper. “It’s—” he gulped, “it’s not something I can take back, if you’re not alright with it. It’s not something we can pretend is gonna go away, or can ignore, or say is just because I’m sad or whatever. It’s who I am, but it’s also illegal as hell.” 

 

“...Shit,” his brother said. “I’m not even gonna address the part where you called me Rico again.  _ Illegal _ ? What sort of thing is it illegal to  _ be? _ That’s dumb, that’s — should not be possible, you are who you are and you’re who you were born as, what do you mean? You serious?”

 

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this, idiot,” Ezio said. “I need to know that you’ll be fine, won’t hate me, or tell anyone.  _ Anyone. _ ” He gripped Federico’s shoulder tight as a vice, his nails like claws, to ground himself, and as a promise. “It’s  _ serious _ .”

 

There was a pause, until Federico let out a long, deep exhale. “I think I know what it is,” he said. “But… I think you need to tell me.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leonardo: ....... k thanks i don't like the vibes i'm getting here i'm gonna uh. evacuate the premises. please don't burn my house down in your manly bitchfight..... k bye https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMiZCvY4_is
> 
> i may or may not have projected some of my frustrations over how men in our society are raised onto ezio bc HHHHHHH TOXIC MASCULINITY IS HARMFUL TO EVERYONE...... LTRLY EVERYONE.... also school is going great for me!! had a lecture about monumental architecture in greece so in case anybody knows wtf is going on w me..... i think corinthian columns go way harder than ionian ones... yeah the volutes are a classic but the vegetal decorations just has more of an Oomph, you know? like they can get it. they Fuck. sexy as all hell. don't even talk to me if you prefer dorian columns. yeah the triglyfs are cool but are they as fuckable as corinthian capitals? i think not
> 
> also when were one of y'all gonna tell me i left in a lenny face in the last chapter?? yall were just gonna let myself make a clown of me?


	21. Eggs and Apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️EMERGENCY ALERT  
> LEONARDO ALERT:
> 
> THE BOYS ARE FIGHTINGGGGGG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> early chapter because we have a very intense week in class now w doing a close group study on the topography of Akropolis in Athen and much of it's source material, filled with both oral presentations and a written essay. press f to pay respects
> 
> so you may have noticed a change in title.......... yah. could do a monologue as to why but eh let’s just TL:DR it and say that i always hated “aspre dolce” and put off renaming it for too long 
> 
> anyway yeah!! time for Ezio to come out to Rico! as a little content warning or what have you i can say you’ve got nothing to worry about. SPOILER Ezio severely underestimated his brother’s ability to give a fuck about what society thinks. Based this a lil bit on me coming out to my brother I’m really close to, i also thought he was gonna be a dick about it. Then he wasn’t. And we both just went well. Ok. What do we do now? And went to throw rocks into the ocean. 
> 
> Poor Leonardo this is basically just a home invasion at this point what has he done to deserve this

Federico has decided that the most difficult of news were best delivered when each party had had some wine. 

 

“Leo told us we could get started right?” he said, unscrewing a bottle. “So let’s get to it. Get us some cups please, you ought to know where he keeps them.”

 

“He appreciates ‘Leo’ as much as you do Rico,” Ezio said, going to the right cupboard. He took two of the less nice ones. An important revelation warranted some fancy crockery, but unfortunately he needed to keep their potential intentional destruction in mind, as who knew how Federico would react 

 

“Noted,” Federico said, pouring the wine for them both. He held his up, and Ezio brought his cup aloft to match him. “Cheers,” Federico said. “See you on the other side of whatever knowledge.”

 

“Cheers. I hope you won’t kill me.”

 

They both emptied their cups in one go. Federico wordlessly filmed them back up. 

 

Well. 

 

Fuck it, there was no use beating around it now. The sooner it was said, the sooner he could deal with the fallout. 

 

“I’m in love with a man,” he said. “I’m attracted to both men and women. Father caught me snogging one of the Lioni boys and was furious. Seriously, I’ve never seen him so angry. Went on about how I’m selfish for being willing to risk our family’s status just to get off, and how laying with men is a last resort done only when there are no women. So after that he just… kept encouraging me to fool around with women, because that was the right and done thing to do, and I wanted him to approve of me, because being told what I was doing was disgusting, shameful and sinful was the worst feeling in the world. So after that whenever I was attracted to some man I convinced myself I just appreciated his looks, like aesthetics wise. Or admired him, wanted to emulate him, instead of drop to my knees, because that’s what women do. Like, I would see a very attractive man, and it wasn’t that  _ I  _ was attracted to him, it’s that I understood why  _ women  _ would be attracted to him. And it took… someone else telling me it was alright, that what I felt was possible, there’s nothing wrong with me, to realise how wrong I really had been. It’s…” he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut, and tried to breathe in deeply to settle the sense of restlessness that prickled between his shoulder blades, the urge to run away and climb a church and get away from everything. It wouldn’t even work, anyway, Federico was as good a climber as he was. 

“It sucks, because I hadn’t, until a while ago, realised how fucked up it all was. I knew it was unfair that he kept expecting me to be two contradictory things at once, but I hadn’t realised that most of the trouble I got into was because… I wanted him to — not be disappointed in me. Only I’m not as smart as you or Claudia, I’m the  _ handsome  _ one, so I did what I thought I was good for, to make him proud of me for that. That didn’t work either, obviously. No matter what I do it isn’t right, so I’m tired of trying. I’m  _ tired _ , Federico. I don’t want to do things people want me to do anymore, and it’s easier to run away from home all the time than to try and tell our parents that. 

How would I even explain that? To our mother, to Claudia? That father inadvertently, and partly on purpose, made me think fucking around was all I’m good for? I know how well that would go, they would say I’m blaming my mistakes on him, and partially, they’d be right. My actions are my responsibility, even the ones father spurred on. It’s too little too late, maybe, but I’m doing what  _ I  _ want to do now, without thinking about what he or societal conventions say.”

 

For the first time since he began talking, he looked up at his brother. Federico, who was staring at him without the scorn he had expected, without any of the judgement he had feared, or anything even near resembling anger. It was puzzlement, he was viewing Ezio the same way one might look at a teacher when they didn’t quite get what they were trying to explain, or one looked at a piece of art and tried to figure out which saint the man depicted was supposed to be. Not frustrated, just confused, and searching. “This is… a lot,” he finally said. Ezio couldn’t help the snort of laughter even if he tried. “So I’m gonna take it in one thing at a time, alright? Yeah, so wind back up — this whole thing that’s been going on with you for a while now is because you realised you’re attracted to men, too? Not just women?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“And that’s… possible?”

 

“Honestly, I sort of thought everyone was like this, as a sort of emergency thing if no one of the opposite sex is around,” Ezio said, then frowned. “Or, I don’t know what I was thinking, really. I had a part of me I was suppressing the absolute shit out of, let’s say. Lying to myself because papà lied to me.”

 

Federico clapped his hand against his thigh. “See, this is what I don’t get!” He exclaimed. “That sounds smart! Think about what you get if you can have sex with men  _ and  _ women: you don’t have to risk making bastards, or taking a girl’s virginity before marriage, but you can still marry a woman and have children. That would solve  _ so  _ many problems!”

 

He didn’t know what to say, or how to feel. He had been tensing himself up, mentally preparing him for the worst so much that this unexpectedly positive outcome mostly left him feeling numb. He took a sip of his wine.  “So you don’t think I’m… all the things father accused me of being?”

 

“Fuck no, not at all!” Federico said. He was soon up in his space again, a hand firmly clasped on his shoulder. “Ezio, I’m sorry he told you that and that he made you believe it. And I’m sorry I didn’t know, because if I did I promise you I would have told you this much sooner. You’re not selfish. You’re not disgusting. You’re not wrong. What you are is a bit of an idiot, sometimes a bit of a dick, a magnet for trouble and  _ my brother.  _ You’ve got a lot of flaws, everyone does, but this whole thing with liking men is not one of them.”

 

“Shut up,” Ezio said reflexively, forcing himself to hold back the emotion that wanted to spill out from his eyes and over them both. “That was almost eloquent of you, bitch.”

 

“There’s the idiot brother I know,” Federico smirked. He held out his arms. “Come on, bring it in. You know you want to.”

 

“No I don’t, idiot,” Ezio said, crossing his arms. He backed away as Federico slowly approached, only to bump into the kitchen counters. He was surrounded. Swiftly, he put down his wine on the counter and tried to duck under Federico’s outstretched arms. Federico was prepared, however, and caught him with his arms around the middle and forced him into a backwards hug. Ezio cried out in righteous fury and tried to wiggle his way out of his brother’s grip, only to find that Federico was to strong to defeat that way. Drastic measures had to be taken. He stepped on Federico’s foot, using the sudden laxing of his brother’s grip to twist around again until he could duck behind him. He attempted to force Federico’s arms behind his back. Federico was not to be outdone, and hooked a leg around Ezio’s ankle to kick him off balance. It worked, forcing Ezio to focus on falling without hurting himself instead of keeping Federico off him. Soon enough he had to struggle to get away from Federico’s sinister hugs and one of their more classic bouts of wrestling began, right in the middle of Leonardo’s kitchen floor. 

 

It wasn’t nearly the best place for such a thing — sticky in places, with recently spilled wine, maybe even from the two of them, dusted with stray flour and small herbs and other dry things Leonardo had not yet swept. Not to mention the fact that it was a wooden floor, and not one polished to great buff, such as a dining room would be, but one meant for work, so that it was hard, rough and unforgiving when they knocked their shins, elbows, shoulders, hips and heads to it. The fight, however, was on, and bruises and dirt was far away from either man’s mind. More than in pain or inconvenience, they would grunt, swear and cry out in anger, frustration and minor triumphs, with no point behind any words, only the sentiments conveyed, of the sort that said  _ take that _ or  _ fuck you _ . 

 

(If either of them had stopped for even a moment, given each other one moment to breathe and let things settle in their minds like they should, there would have been less laughter, less play, and instead something even more vulnerable and sincere that what they had already both expressed. There would be more hugs, even more crying than what Ezio had done in previous days. Long speeches and promises, and in depth discussions that would provoke and soothe in equal measures, and leave them quite changed. However, that was not who either of them were. And as much as they weren’t children anymore, neither were they adults, certainly not the kind who would settle important things in such important ways. Instead of saying something as dangerous and fraught as I love you, they resorted to what was familiar, and therefore safe. It was a way to say, a lot has changed, but we haven’t. We both know more now, and are more grown for it, but we’re still brothers, we are who we have always been and will be, only more realised. Swearing and wrestling felt more honest, in that way, more raw than any emotional conversation could then and there. A discussion would not feel as real.)

 

Neither of them had spared as much of a thought as to when their host might be coming back, or even how much time had passed since he had left, or how long a time they spent talking compared to time spent compensating for emotional honesty with duking it out on the floor like when they were kids and emotional communication was entirely black and white, without compromise or more grandiose sentiments than “you’re alright” and “you’re a butt”. 

 

Who had the upper hand was crystal clear in one moment, then changed the next, and on it went; one of them would gain ground, only for the other to pull a dirty trick that would reset the board so to speak. So it was that once their host did return, neither of them saw it as they were both turned away from the entrance. Neither of them heard it, because all they heard were each other’s swears and other wordless sounds and the pounding of their blood in their ears. Federico had Ezio’s back against his stomach with his legs like a pincer clamped over his waist to stop him from moving, arms in turn folded under Ezio’s armpits in a bastardised version of a hug. Ezio was trying to slap Federico’s head, but was only successful half the time without being able to see where Federico would twist his neck. So when he heard someone cry out in anger when one of his hits landed, and Federico’s grip went slack, he thought he had just landed a particularly good hit. He flipped himself over so that he could pin Federico down instead, but stopped when he saw that Federico was palming at something… translucent and gooey on his head and face, and behind him, very familiar boots, trousers, and as he looked up —

 

Leonardo, with another egg in one hand and a log in the other, brandished and ready to form a barbaric but effective weapon. While Ezio and Federico had been play angry, filled with adrenaline and the childish urge to grapple and see who the winner was, similar to when running a race, Leonardo looked like he was  _ actually, for real, seriously angry.  _ And he was looking at Federico.

 

“Whoa, hey, babe!” Ezio hurriedly exclaimed, sitting up on his knees and holding up his hands. “We were play fighting, it’s fine, please put down the log!”

 

Leonardo paused, but did not lower the log, and instead only looked more ready to throw the egg, but at Ezio instead. “You were  _ what? _ ”

 

“Shit, did you throw an  _ egg _ at me?” Federico grimaced, pulling out his tongue with an  _ ew _ as he felt at the egg white in his hair. He looked at his hand and pulled even more of a face. “Oh, this is disgusting. Oh God this is so gross.”

 

“We weren’t fighting! We talked for a bit, communicated about feelings, you know, then started wrestling. Just for sport, we did it all the time as kids. Not as often as we race, but this is not an unusual thing, I swear.”

 

Finally, Leonardo lowered the log. “It’s not a very usual thing to come home to, Ezio. I thought he was hurting you!”

 

“I get that, and I’m sorry, we should have thought through it before we decided to literally act like kids. I’m really flattered and glad you were so quick to try to defend me, though,” Ezio said, with one of the flirty half-smiles that would usually melt the heart of any poor soul he set his eyes on. Usually. Leonardo, instead, sighed. 

 

“Yes, you should have.  _ Please,  _ if you’re going to do it again, at least take it outside.”

 

“If that’s what it takes to not get egged again,” Federico said morosely. “This feels like snot, except it’s also cold, God.  _ God, shit  _ it’s in my eye now! Shit! Is there something I can clean this up with?”

 

Leonardo would likely be more than justified in refusing him and sending them both on their way for having disrespected his home like that, though Leonardo, being himself, would of course never do that. Sympathetic and kind soul that he was, he only sighed deeply once before he left to get a bucket of water and a rag.

 

Federico, looking quite pathetic splattered with an egg, sitting on the floor, partially covered in flour and with rumpled clothes, let out a sigh Ezio could only describe as resigned. “He’s a good friend at least, leaping to your defence like that,” he said, then grumbled, “even if I’d rather he hadn’t. God damn it, this is gross.”

 

“Looks it, too,” Ezio nodded.

 

Amusement tugged at the corner of Federico’s lips, “Shut up.” A pause. “So… ‘babe’?”

 

Ezio was puzzled for the approximately two seconds it took for him to remember, whereupon he dragged a hand over his face. “Fuck… I don’t expect you might be persuaded to forget that?”

 

A snort. “Nope. Actually, it does make quite a lot of things make sense in retrospect. Especially adding your whole ‘I like men, also I’m in love with one but let’s just mention that in passing and hope you forget that part and get on to my daddy issues’ into the picture,” he said. “I mean… your rant about how great he is at dinner last night, you spending all your free time here, you being able to go to the brothel with him  _ without having sex  _ and I have to say, that sketch I picked up earlier did make me a little bit suspicious, because I’ve never seen a pencil sketch look that poetic, and it was of you sitting in a chair, nothing else. I’m honestly disappointed I didn’t figure it out earlier, it’s so obvious in retrospect.”

 

Ezio looked around the room. “Wonder where Leonardo put those eggs…”

 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Federico said without heat. He pushed at Ezio’s knee with his foot. “Come on, tell me about your boyfriend. And good work, by the way. Always knew you’d snag the hottest person you could possibly find. I’m just glad you didn’t take the hottest woman, so I still have a shot. Also I would compliment his personality too, but he  _ did  _ egg me. It’s gonna take a while for me to get past.”

 

“Oh, fuck off, that happened ages ago,” Ezio joked. Federico’s prodding foot turned to a full kick to his knee. “Bastard! Alright, whatever, what do you want to know?” It was so surreal. So, so surreal. The day before, he had resigned himself to living a secret, at the same time he had entered a romantic relationship with Leonardo. He’d gone home, yesterday, only  _ yesterday _ thinking that no one could know, and now there he was, with his brother being just as much of a bitch as always, except about Ezio’s relationship with a man. He should never have underestimated Federico’s ability to stand by his harmless bullshit. It wasn’t as if either of them had been particularly hard on the  _ sins _ part of Christianity, since they both were comfortable drinking, fighting and feasting side by side, only to part ways just to go off with a prostitute each. They were both  _ religious _ , but as long as they weren’t actively harming an innocent human being, they both figured that going to church, going to confession and paying for those letters and reading the Bible should be fine. They weren’t even committing any  _ crimes. _

 

(God himself was a complicated topic for them both, Ezio knew. Claudia was likely the least religious person in the family, although she was decidedly the most quiet on the matter at all. Their parents were deeply religious, their mother especially so, and Petruccio seemed to be that as well. Constantly surrounded with teachers of various sorts, too, and not out in the world as much any of the other siblings, he received a different view of Jesus than they did. While Federico and Ezio both struggled to rationalise God’s contradictions and why he would let bad things occur to those who loved Him most, Petruccio only ever heard  _ of  _ God and  _ of  _ His flock. They all participated in sheltering him from inequality, war, violence of all sorts, power struggles, homelessness, every sort of human misery that occurred in the streets. The two oldest would instead agree, shake hands even as adolescents, that their sins could not count as such if they weren’t harming anyone. There were those who started fights only to fight, those who lived to belittle and humiliate others below them, the corrupt ones, those who thrived on excess and could never know when to stop. Essentially, there were  _ devils  _ out there whom God was busy dealing with and while they were no angels, they were  _ people.  _ Flawed people, who loved, and wasn’t that what mattered, in the end? Was that not what God had made them for?

 

In short, he should have known. If anyone would stand by him in this, it would be his brother. The actual reason for why he had been terrified to tell him was that the sliver of a chance, no matter how small, of Federico not approving had been enough to make him reluctant to risk it. Even a  _ slight  _ chance for rejection was enough to unsettle him. Luckily for them all, they were  _ brothers _ , and that meant something.)

 

Except for Ezio, now. Ah, well. It wasn’t stealing, cheating, or worst of all, killing. He should be fine. After all, he was in love. After all, love was God. 

 

Maybe, in not so many words, without having really thought of it at length, that was the conclusion Federico had come to so quickly. Or he saw it as about as harmful as the usual lust, and so didn’t care much. 

 

“Basics,” Federico declared. “How long have you been together?”

 

“Officially? Since yesterday morning. I was in love for a long time, but didn’t realise it until recently. And it wasn’t as if I was ready for that right after having gotten over Christina, anyway.”

 

“Yesterday?! Explains why you were walking on clouds. Wow, alright. When did you realise the thing about men, then?”

 

“It’s…” Ezio laughed. “It’s been a hell of a week.”

 

“Holy shit,” Federico said. “I suppose it makes sense, though. I’m guessing you realised that, then realised the love thing, then the rest sorted itself out? That the only thing stopping you was you not knowing it was an option?”

 

He let out a long breath, curling from his toes up through his torso and throat to let out more of the relief churning its way through his body. He wasn’t being judged. He wasn’t being judged.  “That pretty much sums it up, yeah. Once I realised I was in love, I couldn’t hide it anymore, from myself  _ or  _ from him. I was planning on doing a whole courtship thing, with dates and gifts and the whole lot. Except as I’ve said before and will say again, he’s smart, so he realised what was going on pretty quickly, and threw my carefully thought of plans out the window. Not that I mind.”

 

“That’s so sweet it’s almost disgusting,” Federico said. “Do I have to intimidate him? So he won’t mess with you? Because I almost feel that it should be you I should intimidate, since he seems so nice.”

 

“Except for the egg.”

 

“Except for the egg,” Federico sighed. Said egg had steadily been flowing down from his hair, over his face, down his neck and into his collar. “He should have used the log instead, this is a waste of a potential frittata.”

 

“You hate frittatas.”

 

“And you love them,” Federico said. “I wasn’t implying he was gonna make  _ me  _ frittate.”

 

Ezio tilted his head. “I don’t have to tell you that this stays between us, do I?”

 

Federico snorted. 

 

“Thought so — which means you also can’t make any jokes about it in front of anyone else. No matter  _ how  _ good an opening I give you.”

 

“Thought you reserved your good opening for Leonardo,” Federico said casually. 

 

“ _ So _ do as many of them as you can while you still have the chance,” Ezio continued, preferring to pretend that his brother had not spoken, “because torturing you with missed opportunities for good jokes is going to be my favourite bullying strategy from now on.”

 

“You bastard.” Except Federico looked amused, and even a bit proud. “At least we don’t have to compete for girls anymore. Unless the two of you are going to form a frightening polyamorous team.”

 

“No chance of that happening,” Leonardo said, entering the scene with cleaning supplies as if he had never left. He wanted no time getting to his knees and dipping a rag in the bucket of water. Wringing it out, he asked, “I’m guessing I’ve missed quite a bit?”

 

“Understatement of the century,” Ezio smiled. 

 

Federico winced as Leonardo laid the rag over the soggy mess of his hair and some water fell onto his chest, but let the man work. “Thank you,” he said. “The short of it is, Ezio told me the two of you are romantically involved, and apparently it’s possible to be attracted to men, too. I’m learning a lot today.”

 

Ezio shrugged, pleased, “That tends to happen in this house.”

 

The look Leonardo shot him was enough to make his toes curl; to be such a singular point of love and warmth Leonardo gave. “I didn’t think you had planned on telling anyone so soon.”

 

“I hadn’t,” Ezio said. “The attraction thing came first, because I guess I needed at least one in the family to know and be on my side. The thing about us was an accident. Sorry for not asking you beforehand.”

 

“Thank you,” Leonardo said, still fond, “I don’t think you would have told him if you didn’t think it was safe.” Again, there were the words,  _ I trust you _ . I trust you. Leonardo knew him, and still trusted him. 

 

To Federico, having gotten most of the egg from his hair and was now trying to get it from his eye as gently as possible, he said, “Since you’re learning about attraction, it’s worth mentioning that polyamory is not happening because I am  _ only  _ attracted to men. Not to mention,” he locked gazes with Ezio again, again making his toes curl and breath hitch, not from tenderness, but from the heat that look promised, the intensity he so rarely expressed without restraint or shame, “I don’t share.”

 

“ _ Leonardo…! _ ”Ezio had felt it enough times to know that the heat exploding in his stomach, spreading through his veins and sparking along every single nerve was nothing less than pure, unbridled lust. To his brother, without looking away from possibly the sexiest man on earth, he said, “I  _ really  _ wish you weren’t here right now, Federico.”

 

“Believe me,” his brother said, looking even more miserable than he had while covered in raw egg yolk, “I wish I wasn’t, either.”

 

Leonardo visibly shook himself, cheeks and neck flushed pink, having clearly remembered himself. “I apologise,” he said to Federico. “That was inappropriate. I don’t know what came over me.”

 

Later, Ezio wanted to say, it would be him. But he was lucky enough that Federico had been handling things so well, he decided to show some modicum of mercy and did not say it out loud. 

 

“It’s alright, I’ll live. Sadly, I’ve heard worse, and significantly more detailed, dirty talk about Ezio here before.”

 

Leonardo made a face of sympathy. “Aurelia?”

 

“No, Simone, actually,” Federico said. “Hold on, you know the courtesans by name?”

 

“I’ve worked with them a great deal in the past,” Leonardo explained. By the wide-eyed, bewildered stare Federico was giving him, he had been misunderstood.

 

“There are male prostitutes?”

 

Ezio leaned over to swat him on the arm. “He  _ sketches _ them, idiot, I told you that yesterday!”

 

“They’re gracious enough to be my muses, on occasion, nothing more than that,” Leonardo said. “Though yes, male prostitutes do indeed exist.”

 

“Where? I’ve never seen one!”

 

“You know the guard that walks around the floor? Tall, black shoulder length hair, obnoxious?” Ezio asked. 

 

“ _ Seriously? _ ” Leonardo and Ezio both nodded. “Huh… I suppose it makes sense, I have thought that he’s too handsome to be a guard.”

 

“He’s not that good looking,” Ezio objected.

 

“Are you joking? He’s extremely handsome.”

 

“Is he though?”

 

“He’s objectively good looking.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“If someone wants to approach him, they have to ask Paula first,” Leonardo cut in. “So as to make sure the city guards don’t come knocking to investigate claims of sodomy. Most brothels have a similar system, with guards that double as courtesans. It’s difficult to know if someone else does not tell you. I myself didn’t know until a female former friend of mine told me of Eduardo’s —that’s his name— existence.” 

 

“Seems like a lot of effort just to pay for sex,” Federico mused. “My condolences. You really aren’t attracted to women at all?”

 

“Not one bit.”

 

“Not even the…” Federico held his hands a fair distance away from his chest. 

 

Ezio squinted. “Are you making a gesture for…tits?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I prefer pectorals,” Leonardo said, diplomatic and graceful in a way that was almost more cutting than if he had been discourteous. 

 

Federico stuck his gaze to some place far away, focused but not really seeing anything before him. 

 

“Of course someone not liking breasts is what would confuse you the most today,” Ezio sighed. 

 

“You had the same issue,” Leonardo pointed out. Ezio threw him a betrayed look.

 

“ _ He  _ didn’t know that!”

 

“Well, in all honesty,” Federico said, “Ezio, I’m used to your dick causing you problems. That part is the least surpriseing. You falling in love, this quickly, this deeply? Would be strange if I hadn’t seen the trainwreck that was your affair with Cristina Vespucci. Father, being an asshole? Not exactly news. Being attracted to both sexes? New, but understandable. Some men are objectively handsome, like what was his name— Eduardo. Fully understandable. I wouldn’t do it myself, but I get it. Not liking breasts, however? It’s too much. I don’t understand it. Seeing it only from my own perspective, it really does not make sense.”

 

“I can claim the reverse,” Leonardo said. “From my perspective, you’re both strange. Breasts are, quite literally, just a part of the body. They’re too soft, and they look exceedingly strange. If I hadn’t sketched the girls at the bordello so often I would have no clue whatsoever as to how they operated. I would probably be, God forbid, drawing breasts the way Michelangelo sculpts them.”

 

Both Ezio and Federico winced at that visual in unison. “Those damn apple tits,” Ezio muttered. Federico shuddered. 

 

“Well, then, thank goodness for your marvellous work ethic and the girls’ contributions to the cause,” Federico said, bowing his head in acquiescence. He looked around, “Where did I put my wine? I want to make a toast.”

 

“To what?”

 

“To us, of course. To having been honest, and managing to have an adult conversation without you running and with me actually listening to you. And, of  _ course _ , to welcome this fine specimen of a man—“ he gestured to Leonardo, who looked embarrassed, “—into the family. He has no idea what he’s in for, but at least you’ve both got me on your side now and I will  _ not  _ let our family hunt you for sport. Even if I may,  at a random point where you, Leonardo, least expect it, throw an egg at you. In this family, it’s eye for an eye, I’m afraid. Welcome to the Auditore family, we’re very happy to have you.”

 

“I’m honoured to be included,” Leonardo said, bowing his head. 

 

“You actually look like you mean it,” Ezio said, breathless, grinning so wide it might hurt. “God damn.” Of course, what he meant to say was,  _ I love you.  _ From the small twitch of Leonardo’s lips, with his avoidance of his eyes in a direct contrast to what he had shown before, he heard it. 

 

Federico sprung to his feet. “Wine!” he cried. “We must have wine, it is the only way I’m gonna be able to suffer this romance much longer.” He made a noise of joy when he found his cup and refilled it and Ezio’s, being as polite as to also rummage for a cup for Leonardo. 

 

“You’ve seen me grope and snog women right in front of you, and this is where you draw the line?” Ezio asked, fighting back a chuckle.

 

“This feels more intimate somehow,” Federico shrugged, handing the other two their cups. He grabbed a plate as well, for the cheese Leonardo had brought back, and figs Ezio didn’t know where he had found. “I’m not used to seeing two people in love; it makes me feel like a third wheel.”

 

“My apologies,” Leonardo said, looking genuinely unhappy, pinched and suddenly reserved, “I did not intend to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“Oh, babe, no,” Ezio said, reaching out to lay a hand on Leonardo’s knee. Federico seemed to recognise the barely covered distress there as well, for he, too, reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder.

 

“I’m not uncomfortable because you’re men,” he explained. “It’s uncomfortable because I really am not used to seeing two people be so clearly in love, so I don’t know how to act.” He grabbed a piece of cheese from the plate and popped it into his mouth. “It’s sad, I suppose, but most married couples I know barely like each other most days.  _ Theoretically _ only people who are in love should marry, since marriage is supposed to be based on love. Theoretically, we’re  _ enlightened  _ now, and aren’t arranging marriages anymore. Practically, little has changed. We’re lucky our parents like each other.”

 

“I think they might love each other,” Ezio said, “It’s just that they’re sort of scared of what that means.”

 

“What do you mean?” Leonardo asked.

 

“Being loved sort of requires being wholly known by someone, and if someone knows you, they know your weaknesses. Our parents love each other, but they don’t trust each other,” he said, a pang in his chest. He took a swig of wine to burn it away.

 

“I think you might be right,” Federico said, equally pained by that. “We’re lucky, though. All things considered, we have had a wonderful childhood compared to most others, complete with parents that aren’t abusive. Manipulate and flawed, but not out right abusive. I have yet to meet a parent that hasn’t screwed up their kid at least a little bit.”

 

“Remind me to introduce the two of you to my mother sometime,” Leonardo said. “I was lucky to be born to her. Had she been even a bit less of an angel, I don’t know if I could have been left unmarked by my father.”

 

He hadn’t talked much of his father before, Ezio realised. Only ever his mother. Wordlessly, he took Leonardo’s hand. Leonardo squeezed back.

 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Federico said. “Was he abusive?”

 

Leonardo sighed. “No, but absent. And barely even that. He had no other children when I was young, so he took me in only to give me the barest minimum of education, and sent me off to be an apprentice as soon as possible. I quite liked the last part, don’t misunderstand. It was the feeling of being a spare, a placeholder until something better came along, that I despised. Especially since he minimised the contact I could have with my mother, and then forewent any parenting himself. I wasn’t mistreated as much as I was terribly lonely, and eager to please.”

 

“I’d say neglect can be crueler than any punch,” Ezio said.

 

“Or at least on par,” Federico said. 

 

“I’m alright,” Leonardo said. “Honestly, like I said I have an angel for a mother, and I’m past needing my father’s approval.”

 

“Another thing we have in common,” Ezio smiled. “Thank you, Leonardo, for telling us. I know nothing like that is ever easy.” Too moved for words, probably, Leonardo simply pressed a kiss to Ezio’s hand. Feeling light and a little wild, Ezio lifted his cup. “A little later than you suggested it, Federico, but I think it’ll do. A toast — to not needing our fathers’ approval. I might not be there yet, but I damn well will be, and thanks to you two, I’ll be there sooner than I know. To bad fathers — and being better than they ever were!”

 

It was a little wordy, perhaps, hence why Leonardo only repeated the last part before drinking, cheeks warm and eyes warmer still, their hands still intertwined. And why Federico didn’t repeat any of it at all, and instead just cheered like an athlete coming in first in a place, successful and drunk with it. 

 

Tuesday afternoon and they were sitting on Leonardo’s untidy kitchen floor, cheering and toasting and drinking wine. Federico still had stains of egg, now almost dried, visible in his tangled and mussed hair, on his skin and on his shirt. Both he and Ezio were still rumpled after their bout of wrestling and they were covered in flour in the most random of places. Leonardo looked even stranger than the two of them, impeccably dressed and clean, but sitting cross legged on the floor right with them, holding Ezio’s hand and laughing as loud as either of them. Nothing about what they were doing was normal for any time at all, let alone a Tuesday afternoon, and neither of them saw fit to give one single solitary damn. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was torn between making Federico bi too or not. Downside to him being bi is that it would be really cool for him to be an example of a straight person Actually being cool about it instead of pretending that they are, and for him to really show that Ezio is his brother first and foremost, their similarities will always outweigh their differences. 
> 
> Plus side to Federico being bi would be that then I could have him fuck Eduardo and that would be so fucking funny. Eduardo’s only been in two scenes but I love writing him. Ezio would be so fucking betrayed, like "you're bi??? for THAT???? how could you". and also in my head for no reason other than that it's funny i see this Spartacus moment w their parents where they're like gasp...ezio you're bi. and federico stands up... no i'm bi.... claudia stands up.... no i'm bi. their housekeeper is bi. the cook is bi. maria the maid is bi. unnamed servant #3 is bi. eduardo ducks out of federico's room, also bi. christina vespucci is back. she's bi. aurelia is there, for some reason, being bi, petruccio asks why everyone is saying good bye if they just got there,


	22. micio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternative title "like a virgin - madonna"  
> indirect love confessions, a deescalation of emotional seriousness by way of "clitorises are just overgrown cocks, anyway" and ezio feels cocky. 
> 
> tesoro - treasure, precious  
> micio - affectionate petname for a partner, literally means pussycat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoo boy!! school sure happened! and is continuing to happen! having my first exam tomorrow morning but i'm prepared so i think it'll go well! anyway i had written almost 3k of leo, rico and ezio bonding that i had to like force out? and realised it was so difficult to write bc it didn't fit in the story, was a bit ooc etc. etc. so i had to cut it and a piece of my heart out. ööf. if any of y'all want to read that lmk bc it still exists on my hard drive. 
> 
> sex happens in this, lads. the oral kind. apologies in advance, because this was NOT meant to be sexy and it really really isn't. i have zero experience with blow jobs obv. but i can imagine that they're never easy on the person giving them for the first time

Federico couldn’t stay for long; it, after all, being a Tuesday afternoon and unlike Ezio, his responsibilities were not optional. Once he left, he left Ezio feeling numb, as if Ezio had left with his brother, gone home or gone wherever he was going like he would have not too long ago. It was so normal it left him feeling shaken, how little  _ Federico knowing  _ had actually impacted his psyche. It had changed things, he and Leonardo now had an ally come what may on evil Thursday. Except save for resolving pent up conflict, nothing had fundamentally changed about their relationship. He had expected to be shunned, or at least partially shunned in a best case scenario and had built himself up for it so thoroughly that it, along with… everything else that had dropped over his head like a bag of bricks over the last 24 hours only left him  **numb** .

 

Ezio didn’t particularly like feeling numb. It was strange, since being numb meant that he didn’t like or dislike much, that was the whole point of being numb: feeling nothing. Only, it was strange to not feel anything, he would think later, once he could feel, which meant that he could feel negative about being numb, even though he was numb. It was the knowledge of a feeling that would soon come and had been there before, which was the same thing as feeling it, except for the fact that he didn’t feel it. And also—

 

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Leonardo said into his ear, low, softly. Ezio hadn’t even heard him come before he had wrapped his arms around his waist from behind.

“So sorry, I know that’s your thing. Not good to steal someone else’s thing. Though it is your fault, since you’ve been such a bad influence on me.”

 

“Making you think is a negative thing, is it?” Ezio could feel the upward quirk of Leonardo’s lips against the skin right below his ear and something that might have been feeling, and was definitely at least sensation, travelled through his body like splashes of water after throwing a rock into a lake. 

 

“The  _ worst _ ,” Ezio groaned faux-dramatically. 

 

“Is it about — earlier?” Leonardo asked, concern colouring his voice. “Do you need to talk about it?”

 

“I do,” Ezio said. “I called you babe and you didn’t object, so I gather that’s an approved petname. Any preferred pet names, or any ones you object to?”

 

Ezio’s answer surprised him, by the pause in sound. Of course Ezio knew what he had meant, of course. That didn’t mean that he wanted to talk about it. Leonardo would do so brilliantly, he knew, but he would only feel more numb for it, wringing those thoughts out of himself. Teasing Leonardo like this, maybe making him smile, was a return to the new normal he so enjoyed. 

 

“Are we the type to call each other pet names?” he asked, hesitant. “I know we didn’t talk about it, yesterday, after…”

 

“The sex?”

 

Leonardo snorted. “Blunt. Yes, after the sex. I forgot to ask you what you want out of this, since I believed that I knew. That you wouldn’t… think much of it. I see that it was a mistake on my part, since I’m so used to easy liaisons and your performance of bravado in that that I let it cloud my reason and egg on my admittedly poor self esteem in the area of relationships. None of your actions then or since has been the actions of a man having finished with his one time offer. Still, I need to ask… what do you want?”

 

Ezio should have realised that his history as a playboy should influence Leonardo’s opinion of him, and he should have been smart enough to fear that Leonardo would believe that a short thryst was all Ezio was willing to give. It stung, to be sure, that Leonardo had believed even a little that Ezio would have such a cavalier attitude about them. Still, here Leonardo was, asking him honestly, giving him that respect. So what else could Ezio do but be honest in return?

 

“I just want you. For as long as I’m able and you’re willing. That’s it, just you.” 

 

Leonardo swallowed, forcefully enough that Ezio felt it against his neck and when he spoke, he sounded hesitant, nearly bashful. Ezio didn’t doubt that his ears had turned red and that if they had locked gazes, Leonardo would have ducked his head to hide. “To tell you the truth… I don’t have enough experience being called pet names for me to know which ones I object to.” It was as much of an acknowledgement as Ezio thought he would get. As much clarity they could have with this new, young and fresh thing between them that was so difficult to name. To put a label on it, define it in clear lines, felt impossible there, which was why Leonardo’s careful admittance of inexperience mattered so much. It told him that yes, they were the sort of people that would call each other pet names, that yes, they were more to each other than only platonic friends with sex thrown into the mix, that yes, Leonardo was inexperienced in relationships… but was looking to gain more in that. With  _ him. _

 

Ezio’s heart hurt for him. He turned around in Leonardo’s embrace to twirl his arms around his neck and bring them face to face, nose to nose. He leaned back in Leonardo’s arms, trusting him to keep him steady. “Babe,” he said. “Love, darling, sweetheart.” Yes, Leonardo’s ears were red, as was his whole face rapidly becoming, spreading down his cheeks and neck. “Honey, sweetie, beautiful, baby, lover, my sweet—”

 

“Most of those sound the same,” Leonardo said, struggling to look critical.

 

“Beloved, angel, apple of my eye, sunshine, cutie, dearie, handsome—”

 

“You’re making these up,” Leonardo protested. “I refuse to believe there are people out there calling their loved ones these things.”

 

“I can get cheesier,” Ezio grinned. His cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much, not that he minded it. “You can be my knight in shining armour, my one and only, my little lemon—”

 

“ _ Lemon _ ?” Leonardo sounded almost offended. “Why on earth would anyone be called lemon?”

 

“I made that one up,” Ezio confessed, humour bubbling through his voice, “Because it suits you, and it’s silly,” and no one should have to go through life without the humiliation of the very silliest of pet names to show them how beloved they were. 

 

“It does not!”

 

“Your hair is yellow, for starters,” Leonardo sputtered in disbelief, “and you’re sour sometimes, when you’re grumpy, but sweet to those who know you, which  _ I _ ,” Ezio beamed, “do!”

 

“I’m not grumpy,” Leonardo insisted. 

 

“You can be, when you’re too hard on yourself in your pursuit of the impossible, or you haven’t slept in too long, or you forgot to eat, or you hate your commission or commissioner.”

 

Leonardo frowned, nearly whining, “You make me sound like a curmudgeon.” 

 

“Only  _ sometimes _ . And what would life be if it were only sweet?”

 

“Sweet,” Leonardo deadpanned. 

 

“ _ Boring _ ,” Ezio insisted. “But you’re right, you’re almost infuriatingly joyful sometimes.”

 

Leonardo raised his brows. “So if anything, you’re a little lemon.”

 

“I’m not litte, stop it, where did the ‘little’ part come from?”

 

Bad move, he had given Leonardo an opening which he could exploit mercilessly. The winds of teasing were turning in his direction now.

 

“Little lemon,” Leonardo said, bringing Ezio closer to him with an arm locked behind his back. 

 

Ezio clamped a hand over Leonardo’s mouth — “Stop it!” — only to yelp and draw it back. “Did you  _ lick me? _ ”

 

“Absolutely tiny,” Leonardo said. 

 

“We’re the same height!”

 

Leonardo opened his mouth to, by the quirk of it, tease him some more, wound a fist in his hair and pulled him into a deep kiss. Leonardo made a noise of surprise, but immediately melted into it. Once parted, Ezio said,

 

“Tesoro.”

 

“Come again?”

 

“Babe, when I’m feeling lazy, tesoro for when I want you to know.”  _ Treasure _ . How much he treasured him, what a treasure he was. Treasure as golden as his hair, treasure like the priceless measure of his character. Tesoro.

 

Leonardo’s mouth was open, eyes wide. The embarrassment was apparently too much; he hid his face in the crook of Ezio’s neck. 

“It’s much too long,” he said against his skin, a half-hearted protest at best. “Not a proper nickname at all.” He pressed a kiss against his pulse. “I love it. You continue to surprise me, you know. Right when I think, I know what to except of this man. Right as I think, this is a dream that can’t get any better, you floor me. You would call me tesoro, but with how much light you’ve brought into my life, I am a sunflower, and would say that the sun is right here in front of me.”

 

Sunflowers, which were always turned to the sun. 

 

Ezio struggled to think past the emotion logged in his throat, burning at his eyes, so he laughed and said, “So you’ll call me ‘sun’? That’s bound to confuse people.”

 

Leonardo laughed, the vibrations melting into Ezio’s skin before he pulled his head back up. “No, I’ll just call you love.”

 

Because the simplest solution was usually the best. 

 

Ezio surged forward again, and this time Leonardo was ready, meeting him with an already open mouth to make their tongues touch. Using his grip on Leonardo’s hair, Ezio pulled his lover’s head back and away, making him groan in exasperation and pleasure both. “What are you doing this evening?” he asked. 

 

“I need to work, but I’m not leaving the house, if that’s what you’re asking,” Leonardo responded.

 

“It is,” Ezio purred. He kissed at Leonardo’s pulse point, then again at his jaw. “I want to learn more, and I expect it to take time.”

 

“Learn what?” Leonardo sighed, his eyes closed and melting into Ezio’s touch. 

 

Brazen and brave with experience and want, Ezio said, “To put it crudely, how to suck your dick.”

 

Leonardo’s eyes grew as round as plates and his mouth made a little o. “That’s…” he began to giggle. “A beautiful display of the — art of seduction, oh Cupid,” he said, continuing to giggle. 

 

“Stop laughing,” Ezio scolded, struggling to keep a straight face, “I’m serious! I need to learn it eventually.”

 

“You are nothing if not ambitious,” Leonardo said, calming down. “Only — why?”   
  


“Because it’s nice and I like you and want to do nice things for you, why else? It can’t be too difficult. My technique on women isn’t lacking, and cocks are just overgrown clitorises anyway. And I hate knowing that there’s a skill out there that I haven’t learned.”

 

“I can’t believe this conversation is happening,” Leonardo said, “Surely this is a fever dream of some sort.” He stepped back, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing at his face as he sighed. “Alright. Alright, you’re serious?”

 

Ezio laid a hand over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

 

“Alright. Let’s… take this upstairs, if we’re going to end up in bed anyway.”

* * *

 

 

Leonardo took off his shoes before seating himself cross legged by the head of the bed, Ezio mirroring his actions and taking a seat in front of him. 

 

“So,” Leonardo began. “How do you want to do this? Do you want me to guide your actions, or do you want to try for yourself and figuring it out as you go, or try but take pointers? How do you want to do this?”

 

“Option two,” Ezio said. “I want to try. If I freeze or get stuck, or even just have a question, I’ll ask you. Otherwise, I’ll try to just — let it be.”

 

Leonardo nodded. “It’s important for me that you know that you can back out, at any time. If you change your mind, be it in the beginning, middle or near the end, anytime, then stop. You’re not obligated to continue if you don’t want to. This is only fun if we’re both enjoying ourselves. If you feel you’ve made a mistake, don’t worry, you’ll receive no judgement from me. Don’t expect to do it perfectly on your first try, I know you’re far from inexperienced in general and that might make you frustrated if you don’t live up to your own expectations. Just know that I don’t have any, love. Whatever you do, I’ll be happy with you.”

 

“God,” Ezio said, “You’re making me feel like a virgin again. Though even then my first wasn’t this gentle. You’re so kind I’m almost convinced you’re not real, sometimes.”

 

“Then I consider it my duty to convince you otherwise.”

 

Ezio couldn’t  _ not _ lean in again and kiss him. This time it was gentle, soft, with only the pressure of their lips first and Ezio’s hand coming up to cup Leonardo’s cheek, his lover covering that hand with his own, interlocking their fingers. The kiss deepened gradually, slow but steady, while Ezio began undoing the laces and buttons of Leonardo’s doublet as best he could without looking. He moved to kiss at his jaw and neck and Leonardo tilted his head back without a second thought, only letting sighs of contentment escape his mouth. Ezio had crawled up to practically sit in his lap by the time he could finally push the doublet off and work on the shirt under it, which was luckily far simpler. Laces at the neck trailing down to right below his chest, undone in quick moves and then only to be pulled up over Leonardo’s head. The most difficult thing about that was letting up on his kissing long enough to pull it off. Then he forgot all about it, as he sat back and simply  _ stared.  _

 

“You’re beautiful…” Ezio said, breathless enough that it was barely audible to his own ears, so he had to repeat it again. “You’re beautiful.”

 

Freckles absolutely everywhere. Golden hair, almost red in places, dusted lightly over his chest, down from his navel to his trousers and further down where he couldn’t see. Not as wide in the shoulders as Ezio, not as clearly defined in his abdomen, and still with clear, wiry strength in his limbs, in his core. Muscles defined enough to speak of exercise and work both. There were some small scars on his arms from where scalpels and other tools had slipped, white now, most of them nearly faded, only two of them a glossy pink; on his left forearm, but with one of them visibly older. Strong, clearly, in the way shadows played over his body, though not as filled out as he could have been if he wasn’t so easily caught up in working that he missed meals every now and then. His skin was much pale than Ezio’s, almost alabaster where it wasn’t freckled, several shades lighter than his face with how little sun the skin saw. It made the blotches of red, blushing, almost glow. 

 

Not curvy and soft like he was used to, and not the ideal shape of a man either. And so heart stoppingly, devastatingly beautiful. 

 

“You exaggerate,” Leonardo said, glowing redder, leaning forward to claim Ezio’s lips once more. “But thank you. Will you show me?”  _ Show yourself to me? Bare your skin like me? Let me undress you? _ Ezio’s own thoughts and hopes of what Leonardo was thinking broadcast so clearly in his head it was as if Leonardo had indeed said them out loud. In lieu of verbal reply, Ezio took Leonardo’s hands and pressed them to the lacing of his jerkin, curling the more elegant fingers around the strings. Then, he said, “ _ Please _ .” Leonardo’s breath hitched. 

 

His hands were shaking, not badly, simply trembling with — Ezio couldn’t really tell. Nerves, anticipation? Better not to guess and instead let Leonardo undress him in his own. With the fine tremors and what was definitely some hesitation, though not enough to make either of them change their minds, it took longer than it should have to unlace jerkin and shirt both and take them off. Still, once they fell, Leonardo gasped. It wasn’t shock really, and it wasn’t particularly loud, it was more that his breath hitched in stupefied — was it wonder?

 

Ezio could feel himself warm up to, used to admiration yes, but not such open awe. He felt more than a little silly. 

 

Leonardo’s hands stopped trembling when he put them on Ezio’s chest, pushed them out, dragged them over his skin, felt every groove of muscle and skin and hair and imperfections, the birth marks, the small scars, the few faded acne marks in places and things Ezio saw so often that he no longer saw them. All of which Leonardo was seeing for the first time, and was treating like a wonder if the world, like he couldn’t quite believe what he saw and so had to feel it all instead. “I always knew you would be perfect,” he said. “Though there’s a difference between knowing and seeing.”

 

“I’m far from perfect,” Ezio protested, flustered. He jerked and let out a breath of pleasured surprise as Leonardo’s hands ghosted over his nipples in his explorations, and it caused sparks to dance under his skin. 

 

“I’m a perfectionist, remember? I say, you’re perfect to me. You will not convince me to believe otherwise,” Leonardo said. Ezio didn’t know how to respond, so instead chose to roam his hands over Leonardo, too. Though he began with his wrists before trailing down his arms, feeling and admiring the strength there. He caressed the most freckled parts of his skin and marvelled at how soft Leonardo’s skin was, at how even where there were imperfections and scars, where the skin should have been rough it felt like velvet. And he was hot, so very warm, to the touch, almost like he was running a fever. Unable to stop himself, Ezio put his hands flat against his chest and pushed. 

 

Leonardo didn’t look surprised; he was still dumbstruck by Ezio, half naked and now above him, but as soon as his back his the mattress he laid his arms out spread by his sides. It was unintentional and a huge stretch, but then and there Ezio almost thought, stretched out into a cross like he was, that he had found his very own private saviour.

 

Inspired by what was pure accident on Leonardo’s part before, Ezio bent down and took one of his nipples into his mouth. The cry his lover let out went straight down to his groin, along with enough blood from his head to make him dizzy. He mouthed at it, tugged only lightly with his teeth, kissed it, worried it, switched evenly between the two of them and all the while his hands did not stop. He drew Leonardo’s legs up by gripping at the back of his thighs, near the crook of his knees, without even looking, and bent them so that Leonardo’s feet were close enough for Ezio to take off his boots and socks without pausing from swirling the tip of his tongue in a tight circle around the left nipple. He threw them behind his head and apart from acknowledging the fact that they had landed from the heavy  _ thuds _ , he didn’t bother sparing them a thought. Then, it was time to unveil the main event, and he understood why Leonardo's hands had been trembling before, he could barely get his own to stay in check while he unlaced Leonardo’s trousers. 

 

He left Leonardo’s chest to trail down his stomach, mouthing along his abdomen down to the edge of the trousers. In the corner of his eye, he saw Leonardo twisting his fingers into the sheets and, voice huskier than it should be, he said, “You can touch me.” Leonardo’s hands froze. “I want you to.” 

 

A beat. Then one hand was in his fringe, pushing it away from his face, and another was at the back of his head, untying the ribbon to let his hair fall. Leonardo laid the ribbon to the side with only a bit more thought than Ezio had spared his shoes, then both hands were gripping at his tresses like a lifeline. Not enough to tear hair out, not even close, but in some instances enough to make his scalp burn just a little bit, and tear groans from deep in Ezio’s chest.  

 

Then he remembered his mission, wasting no time to hook his fingers in the waist of Leonardo’s trousers to pull it down and then— didn’t. Shit, bad time to get nerves. It had been one thing to see and even feel the bulge there growing, and quite another to see it quite literally right in his face. He’s not quite so confident, anymore. It would have been easier if Leonardo had been small, but alas, this was Ezio’s burden to bear; having a lover with perfect physique. Oh, woe.

 

“You can still change your mind,” came Leonardo’s voice from above him. 

 

That, somehow, even if it certainly wasn’t meant to, reignited his will. “Absolutely not,” he said. He wouldn’t throw himself right into it; he would start slow. He pressed his hand to the bulge, his own excitement growing along with the cock under his hand, and emboldened, he leaned his head forward and breathed in. 

 

Whatever he might or might not have expected, it certainly wasn’t to let out a long, deep groan as all the blood in his head rushed down to his own groin.  _ Musk _ , was the closest thing he could describe it as; musk, something bitter and the smells that came with every part of Leonardo’s body as they were a combination unique to only him. It was a clear smell of sex and he could not even pretend to be unaffected by it. It made his head spin, the undeniable — masculinity of it and the sheer lust he felt in the face of it. Driven by what had to be pure instinct he pressed his mouth to the still clothed cock under him and lavished it with as much attention as he had Leonardo’s chest. He felt powerful as Leonardo bucked and gasped under him, as he felt his dick harden fully under his mouth, and know that he was the reason why. 

 

“ _ Please, _ ” Leonardo begged, and Ezio nearly lost his mind. His hips rolled against the bed beneath them, desperate to get friction, and in one quick movement he pulled Leonardo’s trousers down as far as he could without leaning back. He was practically indistinguishable from him in length but, yes he had remembered correctly, thicker than Ezio. He wasn’t as blonde around his cock as on his head though, but still much lighter than Ezio in shade, and naturally paler than him in skin which only made the red glow more. His cock was already weeping too. Not much, but a clear drop of fluid had rolled down the tip from its head, unmistakable in the shining trail it left behind. 

 

“God,” Ezio said, as a prayer and a curse both; a prayer of gratitude for such a gift as this, a prayer of mercy for him to last through it, and a curse because after this he knew his appetite would only grow to new and insatiable heights for the man in front of him. “Tesoro, you don’t know what you do to me.” He sat back only long enough to pull Leonardo’s trousers off entirely and to throw them to the side to land in a pile wherever, before gripping Leonardo’s strong, so  _ very _ strong and well shaped thighs, watching the points where his fingertips dipped into the flesh like a man obsessed. Which was what he was, in truth. 

 

“You think I don’t know?” Leonardo’s voice was breathy, like a man in the middle of exercise, and yet still strong. “You think I don’t feel the same? That I’m not falling apart beneath your hands right now, when you have barely started?”

 

“You can still talk, for one thing,” Ezio grinned, all teeth like a wolf, “We need to change that.”

 

Leonardo whimpered. “Hold on,” he said. Ezio whined.

 

“ _ Why. _ ”

 

“We need to change positions, before we go any further — it’s easier on you if you take me kneeling, at least initially.”

 

“I don’t care about ‘easier’ at this point,” Ezio huffed, stroking Leonardo’s thighs the way he wanted to stroke what was between them, and only barely held himself off from. 

 

Leonardo pushes himself up with his hands. “ _ I _ do. I don’t want to cause you pain. I can’t guarantee you’ll feel no discomfort, but I will do what I can to minimise it.”

 

As much as he wanted to continue then and there, and as irritated as the sudden pause made him, Ezio saw that it came from a good place. Leonardo would chop off his own foot before he would kick Ezio’s shin, that was simply who he was. He sighed, still with fondness, for it was touching, and leaned forward to his kiss him. 

 

“Alright,” he said, pulling back. “I’ll take your lead.”

 

He ended up on his knees right by the bed, saved from the hard floor by a pillow underneath his knees. Leonardo sat on the edge of the bed, one leg on either side of him. Ezio was more frustrated to see that Leonardo had softened a bit, though on the bright side it meant that he could enjoy bringing him to full attention again. 

 

“Remember to not take your gag reflex as a challenge,” Leonardo said. 

 

“And the award for worst dirty talk goes to…” Ezio said sarcastically. Leonardo, thankfully, took it in the spirit it was intended and snorted out a laugh. 

 

“I needed to say it before you actually start,” Leonardo said. “Because as soon as you put your mouth on me, I won’t be able to think at all.”

 

“That sounded better,” Ezio teased. He gave Leonardo no chance to respond, and opted instead to get started with bringing the cock before him back to its weeping glory. However, as soon as he put his mouth to the tip he pulled back and pulled a face, to the sound of Leonardo laughing. “I wasn’t ready for it to have a taste,” Ezio said, sheepish. “But it’ll be a quickly acquired one, I promise.”

 

“No rush,” Leonardo said, so that Ezio rushed forward again, mouth open to close around the tip. The second time he realised that it wasn’t so much the taste of cock, as the bitter saltiness was similar to that of vagina, but rather that it had been a while since he had tasted even that. It was shocking in how much was familiar when it had little reason to be, how the silken feel of it was familiar, the taste, the heat, were all parts of eating out a woman. It was different in the breadth of it, in how unyielding it was, especially as it grew back to full hardness in his mouth. With women, you could go deeper; in this, said thing would go deeper into Ezio himself. Petty things, really, unimportant details, except for how they served to ground him. He wasn’t so nervous anymore, this was uncharted territory, yes, except it was still sex, and he was good at that, he liked that. It helped that the cock in his mouth was attached to his favourite person, of course. 

 

Leonardo, who was practically clawing at his own thighs before he shifted to grip the sheets. Ezio twisted his tongue around the head the way he would a clit and felt a savage burn of pleasure coil in his stomach as Leonardo keened. Breathing in deeply through his nose, he did his best to sink down a bit further on his cock, hollowing his cheeks to suck it the way he loved it on himself. He hoped it felt as good on his lover as it had when girls did it for him. By Leonardo’s harsh breathing, he was at least close to it. For extra stimuli while he tried to sink down further, he circled the base of Leonardo’s cock with his hand, squeezing at the base and stroking up, down. His other hand went down to his own crotch to press against his still covered dick and he groaned around Leonardo at the much needed pressure. 

 

He didn’t get far down before he started to get uncomfortable, but ignored it, willing himself to keep going and even advancing somewhat even as tears started to roll down his cheeks. 

 

“Ezio—“ Leonardo sounded concerned, and he felt his hand settle at his head to try and push him back. Stubborn, Ezio tried to take even more of him,

 

only to have to pull back as fast as a whip as he nearly gagged. He coughed roughly once, then again, and again, hunched over and turned on the side to try and get his bearings again. 

 

“Are you alright, love?” His hand was on Ezio’s naked back, and it brought with it a much needed sense of grounding, an anchor he used to pull himself back and up again. 

 

“Yeah,” he said, hoarse. “I just got too cocky, I guess.”

 

“Well, if you’re good enough that you’re making puns that terrible, I suppose you’re fine,” Leonardo quipped. “No really, we don’t have to continue. We can switch places, if you’d like, or do something else entirely, or just stop. You don’t have to keep going.”

 

“I  _ want  _ to,” Ezio insisted. “I got too ambitious and wasn’t so cautious, exactly what you told me  _ not  _ to be, so this is on me. I’m fine, I want to try again, and actually use your advice this time.”

 

Leonardo was quiet for a beat, then at last took his hand away and straightened up. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

 

Ezio took his place between his legs again, hands grasping those frankly unfairly good looking thighs. “I  _ am. _ ” Now to prove it. He nuzzled his cheek against Leonardo’s thighs, nipping at the tender flesh on the inside, taking his left hand to circle the base of Leonardo’s cock again. He pulled him in slow, twisting and circling moves with uneven pressure, teasingly slow, and for his reward in the again strained breathing of Leonardo. 

 

“The good thing about me failing,” Ezio said between kisses to his thighs, “is that I’m going to try again, and again, and again, and I’ll get better each time, and all that practice is going straight,” he flicked his tongue at the head of Leonardo’s cock, smirking at the cry it produced, “to  _ this _ .” He closed his mouth over the tip again. He relied mostly on his tongue and hand this time, and only bobbed his head up and down the very first part of Leonardo’s cock so as not to have to stop again. 

 

At times he switched to tracing the underside from the base to the tip with his tongue, or tracing and crisscrossing over the most visible vein, while using his right hand to grip at Leonardo’s legs or palm at his sac. Most of the time, he was sucking down as much as he safely could of his lover’s cock, getting more and more used to the bitter taste — so much so that he didn’t flinch or twist his face when the tip began to weep again. Instead he used it as a much needed lubricant for his left hand’s twisting ministrations. 

 

Both hands occupied, his own stimulation came from rolling his hips to get his cock to rub against his own trousers and squeezing his thighs together, and the groans he made vibrated through Leonardo so that they made the same desperate noises, with the exception that Leonardo, with his mouth free, kept begging him for nothing and particular, for him to not stop, interspersed with multiple unspecified “ _ please _ ”, “God”, “Oh”, “ _ Oh  _ God!” until finally, Leonardo said “I’m close. Love, I’m close—” 

 

Meant as a warning, Ezio took that as praise and challenge both, and increased the tempo of his hand movements, of his tongue’s swirls and the intensity of his suctions, all to bring Leonardo over the edge sooner. He even took his right hand back and pushed it down his trousers, curling it around his own dick to thrust into it. He grew warmer and warmer as sweat rolled down his neck and he breathed as harshly as he could through his nose, while still growing dizzy, and Leonardo’s heaving gasps of breath grew louder and closer together until finally he threw his head back and came with a long moan, spilling down Ezio’s throat. 

 

As used to the taste as he had become, there was no way he had been prepared for that amount of hot come shooting directly down his throat; he swallowed it on pure instinct so that he didn’t choke, having forgotten entirely to actually brace himself for it. Of course, he reared his head back immediately afterwards and coughed hard so as not to choke. Some of it that he didn’t swallow in time dribbled out from the corner of his mouth and he wiped his hand over it quickly. To describe his emotional state as  _ embarrassed _ would be an understatement — he had far surpassed embarrassment and was so far beyond it that he barely cared at all, like it was actually impossible for him to imagine himself from the outside. The sorry state he had to be in, red eyed and coughing his lungs out after just taking a few centimeters of dick, like an absolute virgin, after years of experience deepthroating other people. And still despite it all, he was still hard as a rock because looking up through his eyelashes and the blur of tears of strain and seeing Leonardo with his mouth hanging open and his eyes fluttered shut, coming down from his high, blissed out even though he had  _ definitely _ received better oral before; that made it worth it. Thinking that he had the power to do that even at his first terrible try and that it would only get better from there on out was like lightning through his veins. 

 

Before Leonardo had time to come down fully Ezio shot up from his kneeling position so that he instead towered over the sitting Leonardo, as he opened his eyes and looked up in confusion at the sudden move Ezio bent down  and kissed him. He licked his way into his mouth immediately and only belatedly did he remember that Leonardo might object to being forced to taste his own come. He had nothing to agonise over there, Leonardo kissed back with even more ferociousness, even making a deep sound down in his throat that may or may not have been a growl, who could tell, and he gripped Ezio’s ass and tugged at him, so that he fell on his knees on either side of Leonardo and was perched on Leonardo’s lap.

 

This lasted for half a minute and hours both, until Leonardo took him by surprise and lifted him by his thighs and stood, comfortably holding his weight. Ezio only had enough time to  react to open his eyes and say “what the fuck—” before Leonardo turned around and  _ tossed  _ him onto the bed. Ezio yelped at the throw and subsequent impact, light as it was with the soft mattress, and looked up in time to enjoy Leonardo  _ crawling towards him on the bed on all four _ to stop while positioned over him, grinning broadly.

“Micio,” he all-but purred, which was enough to make Ezio’s stomach do three different flips in rapid succession. He didn’t even object to the silly petname, not in that moment anyway, for how it sounded rolling down Leonardo’s tongue. “I think you did well.”

“No need to spare my feelings,” Ezio smiled back lopsidedly, “I’ll do better next time.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Leonardo said, “But I figure I should return the favour, nevertheless.” 

Ezio’s eyes widened, dick pulsing and painfully hard against his trousers, “You want to upstage me that badly, you could just say so,” he quipped. “Though I think I’m at the point where you could just blow air on me and I would come apart at the seams. But by all means, go ahead.”

 

Leonardo took that invitation to pull down and off his trousers in one go and Ezio’s cock finally sprung free, dripping and aching and red where it protruded from a dark nest of curls. It was visible for maybe a second because unlike Ezio, Leonardo had experience with such things and so took him in his mouth without as much as a how-do-you-do. He slid halfway down, hollowed out his cheeks, slid up to the head, then back down even  _ further.  _

Ezio was dying. This was death. “ _ Leo _ !” he cried, back arching off the bed as his insane show off of a boyfriend sank down further and further with each go. He would retreat, suck, swirl his tongue, sink down further, rinse and repeat, without an actually repetitive rhythm just to keep Ezio curling his toes. “ _ Fuck _ , a- some warning before you decide t-  _ ah _ ! suck my soul out through my dick, maybe?  _ Shit! _ ” 

He looked down to see amusement in the wrinkles in the corner of Leonardo’s eyes, while the actual response was to sink down fully, nose in Ezio’s glory trail and tip pressed against the flat pane of his stomach. Ezio cursed and cried, his hands like claws tearing at the sheets. His balls tightened and he felt the pressure build like an oncoming storm, his blood pounding in his ears and his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. And it kept building and building and building and building  _ and building and building and— _

He  **screamed.** Might even have blacked out, he couldn’t remember. One moment he was coming, his body writhing and arching so much that most of it wasn’t even on top of the bed; the next, he was sinking into the mattress, limbs splayed every which way, numb, cock softening against his thigh and struggling to catch his breath. 

He tried to swear but found that his tongue wasn’t cooperating with him. Leonardo flopped down on the mattress beside him and Ezio immediately turned over in his direction. His tesoro has the decency at least to look tired, even while looking like the cat that got the cream. Ezio couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, Leonardo very much deserved to be smug. 

Still he wasn’t slimy smug, egotistical smug — nothing about it was selfish, in his expression was still that same fondness Ezio had the luxury to be accustomed to, the whole  _ I can't believe you’re real and that you just let me do that to you _ . He was beautiful, and by God, he loved him. 

“Is this a dream?” Ezio said, voice low and raspy still, then mentally slapped himself for how corny that sounded. 

Leonardo didn’t mind. “If this is a dream,” he said, clear and unmistakable, not at all the whisper Ezio would have made it be, “Let it go on for a bit longer. Let’s stay here.”

Ezio felt his heart slowly bleed out in the rhythm of Leonardo’s breath. “Fall asleep with me,” Ezio said. That was the closest thing to what he was asking for that he could give him. Sleeping together, tangled in each other completely, dreaming and floating in a space where there was no such thing as time. Where Ezio didn’t have to leave or had amends to make, where Leonardo didn’t have to work and could simply create what he wished, where the both of them could simply be, for a while longer. “Sleep with me.” 

He stretched out his arm, opening his embrace up. Leonardo filled the space perfectly, like Ezio’s arms were made for no one else and despite their stickiness, despite the sweat and lingering heat, neither of them minded, neither of them thought it was anything but perfect. 

And their breaths evened out, their eyes closed, their limbs grew heavy, and their awareness ceased. They dreamed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sex scenes are so hard to write lads :( i wouldn't even bother if it wasn't so relevant to the story, character development and the relationship between our two resident Dudes. but it is unfortunately hugely important, so yeah here have another sex scene written by a lesbian who's SO supremely not into it that i had to bribe myself with hot cocoa and a walk between every 500 words to have the will to keep writing it. whenever something related to a man's penis is described just picture me doing this face: https://previews.123rf.com/images/kurhan/kurhan1710/kurhan171000033/87260439-girl-disgusted-face-expression.jpg 
> 
> (only time i'm ever ACTUALLY comfortable with the naked male form is when examining statues and telling my teacher that "if you look closely at the nipple you can see that it is a separate piece of marble that they added later, and that the penis was also made separately and fastened to the rest of the groin via a metal rod, which we can see, even if the penis itself is lost, in the carefully shaped cavity in the testicles that's stained with a rust colour, with a small, drilled hole in the middle where the rod itself was positioned. the testicles and face are both hairless, so it's a young man, probably early twenties")


	23. plums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the bare bones of a plan. not even that, just like. the calcium of the as of yet shapeless bones of a plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIIIIIVE!!! and also i have a gf now so that's cool

It would be generous to say that they had really  _ slept _ . By the time Ezio woke up, only enough time had passed for their bout of unconsciousness to be labelled a long nap. Eyes irritated and the lids still heavy along with his limbs, Ezio took stock of his current situation in full. With each new notch on his experience belt, there were clear downsides and upsides. Such as, giving someone a blowjob. Upside: no stickiness of come that had turned nasty and dry on him. Downside: his jaw ached (and he hadn’t even  _ done  _ all that much). Being given a blowjob by Leonardo: upside; excellent, a good time, would love to live through again, fan-fucking-tastic; downside, it was sort of humiliating to realise how less great his attempt had been. Another upside to that though, was the many, many attempts in the future. Downside: many, many attempts in the future, of which the early ones would also be bad. And all of them would make his jaw hurt, probably. 

 

Ezio moves his jaw sideways and heard a  _ click  _ inside his own head at the same time he felt the bone pop, making his ears ring and eyes water. “Fuck,” he groaned. Not fair, with the added grogginess and general Being Tired he felt more like he had been binge drinking than having sex before he fell asleep, so similar felt his whole situation to a hangover. 

 

He pushed himself up with his hands, facing away from the light lest he blind himself, and stretched his arms above his head. A glance behind him revealed Leonardo still asleep and somehow cocooned in the sheets and faced away from Ezio. Most of him was covered, all that really stuck out was his long hair and his feet. At a first glance most wouldn’t likely guess that he was naked. 

 

Ezio’s skin prickled with a chill despite the room not even being that cold. Nude and having calmed down from the sweaty mess he’d been earlier, that wasn’t so strange. It was definitely in his best interest to get dressed, he thought to himself — and looked around to see that yeah, it was a miracle they hadn’t broken something getting undressed. The heavier things, their shoes, had been dropped by the side of the bed, while the rest had been flung far and wide. His trousers were on the far side of the room, his shirt in the opposite corner and his jerkin had landed on a stack of books, knocking down papers to add to the already present mess. Leonardo’s clothes were similarly strewn; his shirt had even ended up on his desk. 

 

He sighed, pushed himself off the bed with a groan, and got dressed piece by piece in four different places in the room. He gathered Leonardo’s clothes as well, folding them  _ somewhat  _ (read; not at all) neatly and placed them by the foot of the bed. Just as Leonardo began to stir. 

 

“Hey, slugabed,” Ezio said, loud enough to keep Leonardo from falling back asleep. His lover responded with mumbles, before sitting up with the posture of a sack. His hair had turned into a bird’s nest, with half of it stuck to his face. Ezio couldn’t help but snort at the sight. “Handsomest man in all the land,” he teased.

 

Leonardo brushed a hand across his face and spit the hair out of his mouth, “I am,” he said, voice husky. He cleared his throat. “How long did we sleep?” he asked, eyebrows pinched, likely thinking about all the missed work.

 

“Not long,” Ezio assured him, “but I have to go — I just wanted to say goodbye before I did. Also, I put your clothes by the foot of the bed.”

 

“Oh, thank you.” Leonardo blinked, then narrowed his eyes slightly. In curiosity, not suspicion. “Going where?”

 

“Going to ask Aurelia for some advice,” he said. “Tell you all about it tomorrow, I promise.”

 

“Aurelia? Really?”

 

“She gives good advice,” Ezio shrugged. And her brand of morality was much more closely aligned with Ezio’s own. “Or decent, at least. I swear I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”

 

“Alright,” Leonardo said. “Good luck, Ezio.”

 

Ezio crawled up on the bed to steal a kiss and smile “thank you,” before he was off through the window and onto the roof, so he wouldn’t be tempted to stay. He still was, though, and continued to be as he ran.

 

* * *

 

 

He stopped on the roof of the brothel and was about to jump down in front of the back door when he stopped himself. He cursed at himself for having forgotten to make himself look less threatening before coming there, if he was to enter through the back. Sure, he  _ could _ go in the front, only it was still light outside and bound to be noticed by someone. Of course, the early hour also increased the amount of women he would run into on his way to Aurelia’s room. There was no place nearby where he could quickly grab something less threatening to wear, though. He didn’t want to startle any of the girls in their space, nor risk being thrown out before he’d seen Aurelia. A stray strand of hair fell into his eyes as the wind blew by — and he had an idea.

 

Ezio wasn’t good enough to braid his own hair after only doing it once, on someone else, but he could manage  _ something _ . He pulled his ribbon loose and held it between his teeth, bowed his head down, gathered his hair and twisted it into a high bun. With his head held up again he tied the ribbon as best he could around it. Still some of the shorter strands of his fringe fell to frame his face, but he hadn’t expected anything different. He was relieved that there wasn’t a mirror nearby or he surely would have gotten cold feet from doing his hair like that, almost like one of the women in the house below his feet. Then again, he  _ had  _ just gladly taken someone’s cock in his mouth, so a feminine hairstyle was nothing in comparison. 

 

The workers were bound to gossip among themselves of course… and the thought didn’t really bother him. They had gossiped about him before and they would again. Let this once be for something harmless, that would definitely leave those who saw him so shocked at first that no one would accost him. 

 

With that done, he dropped down on the ground - noting, in the back of his head, the strange sensation of feeling actual breeze against his bare neck - and entered. The hustle and bustle going on was not so much visible as it was audible; the stomping of feet on the floorboards above, chatter from every direction both far and near, the clatter of utensils in the kitchen nearby. Someone was even singing, not close enough to hear the words but the melody was something straight from a tavern. There was the smell of perfume, bread, soap dust — a thousand things he didn’t normally notice. Like this, in the day after they had slept, but before customers would normally show up, the space of the bordello wasn’t as much lived in as it was a home to the women there. It made his stomach turn in excitement from stepping into such a comfortable world unlike one he’d ever been a part of, and turn in disgust at himself from invading the space. For some reason he couldn’t explain, other than that it made sense to him in the moment, he rolled his sleeves up and unbuttoned the two lowest buttons of his jerkin and pulled a few more strands of hair down to his loose fringe, all to look less put together, but not in a way that spoke of being up to no good. Which he _ was _ , only not the kind they were used to from him. 

 

The sound of steps getting closer brought him out of his trance and he set off towards the stairs. He sped past the kitchen without looking, walked right past a girl turning in to the corridor as he got to the stairs. He walked past some more, all of them only recognising his outsider-status at a second glance when he greeted them (no reason not to be polite), whereupon most turned their heads around in shock. If it was for the hairstyle he had, or that they recognised him, or both of those, he didn’t know, only from those who said – to themselves, mostly – “ _ Auditore?! _ ” when he walked past. Only on the second floor did someone stop him… because it was Eduardo. Ezio turned the corner and all but slammed into his larger frame. As soon as who it was registered in his head, he did his best to push past. Eduardo stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Auditore,” Eduardo said, “Back so soon? Love the hair, you look good.”

 

“I know,” Ezio deadpanned. Unfortunately, Eduardo wasn’t annoyed, and instead just laughed. 

 

“What brings you here? Anything I can help with?” Yeah if he could fuck off, that would be fantastic.

 

“Just going to see Aurelia, so if you could let go and get out of my way, that would be a big help.”

 

“Aurelia? Again?” Eduardo brought his voice down a pitch. “Should Leonardo be jealous?”

 

Ezio slapped his hand away immediately — how  _ dare  _ he? — and stormed off, not bothering who heard his angry steps. 

 

“Wait — I’m sorry!” Eduardo called behind him. He ran to catch up with Ezio and walked behind him, which only made Ezio quicken his steps more. “It was a joke, I didn’t mean to offend you. I promise, I apologise.”

 

“Don’t fucking bother,” Ezio snapped, still walking, still refusing to look at him.

 

“Oh, come on, I’m trying to apologise, just let me!”

 

“I don’t feel like it.”

 

“Christ, alright I  _ was  _ sorry, but you’re making it really difficult to stay that way!”

 

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” Ezio said. 

 

“I’m  _ so  _ sorry I thought you were jealous and insecure, I should have realised you’re just an  _ ass _ ,” Eduardo said with disgust. “And you just walked past her room, idiot.”

 

Ezio halted in his tracks. “No I didn’t.”

 

“You did,” Eduardo said. “God. What does he see in you?” 

 

Ezio saw red. His blood boiled inside him and his fists were clenched hard enough to leave indents from his nails. Only the door he hadn’t yet gone through kept him from decking Eduardo right then and there. Instead he settled for pushing him out of the way to knock at the right door. He didn’t push him  _ nearly  _ hard enough, since he got out of the way but wouldn’t just leave.

 

“What are you still doing here?” Ezio demanded as he waited for Aurelia to open. 

 

“Looking at you,” Eduardo said. “Wondering if that’s the only reason he puts up with you, if you’re like this with him, too.”

 

“Nah,” Ezio grinned sharp like a shark, humourless, “It’s a fuck you exclusive.”

 

The door swung open behind them to reveal a not yet ready Aurelia. Her hair was done and slightly wet at the tips, face free of makeup and wearing clothes that would have gotten her arrested for indecency outside the building, as they were clearly not meant to be anything but comfortable underwear and revealed… a lot. She looked like she could have just rolled out of bed, which had a chance of being true.

 

“Smarmy asshole, hello,” Aurelia said to Eduardo, managing to look down her nose at him despite being much shorter. “And loverboy — oh my God, your hair!” her face split into one of delight. “You look great! I can’t believe I haven’t seen a man with his hair done up before, it looks so good on you. Come in!” She grabbed him by his jerkin and physically pulled him in to her room. “Why the long face, bitch?” she asked Eduardo. “What’ve I done to you?”

 

“Nothing, thank God,” he said haughtily. “Watch out for pretty boy, he’s upset. I think he’s got something other than a cock up his ass or something.” With that and a satisfied smirk at Aurelia’s crow of laughter, he finally left, and let Aurelia slam the door shut.

 

“I was being serious about the hair,” Aurelia told Ezio. “I also happen to think it’s clever. I’m guessing you walked through the back with that, and that was the point?”

 

“Smart guess,” Ezio said. “And true. I was left alone until I literally ran into Eduardo, the  _ bastard _ .”

 

“I don’t even wanna know,” Aurelia snorted. She walked around to her sofa and plopped herself down, pulling her feet up under her. “But I do wanna know why you’re here so sit down, virgin.”

 

Ezio accepted the invitation with relief, sitting down and kicking his shoes off so he could bring his knees up to his chest while he leaned back against the arm rest.

 

“First of all, I have news that will make your day.”

 

Aurelia raised a brow, leaning forward with an elbow on the sofa’s back. “Tell me more.”

 

“I sucked Leonardo’s dick.” She gasped. “It was shit, but I did my best. I  _ severely  _ underestimated how hard it would be… pun not intended, but withstanding.”

 

Aurelia threw her head back with a laugh and clapped her hands together. “ _ Yes _ Lord this made my day! Shit! Good work, well  _ done _ ,” she clapped his leg for emphasis. “It takes practice, not gonna lie, but it’s worth it. You’ll learn to love it too, I know it.”

 

“I think I believe you,” he said. “Though you won’t believe what else I did. We did.”

 

“Try me, bitch.”

 

“Told my older brother.”

 

She leaned back, eyes wide, hand at the base of her throat as her mouth hung agape. “Freddyricko? Seriously?”

 

“Yeah, but that’s not the wildest part. He was  _ accepting _ . And likes Leonardo, so he’s even a bit encouraging. And as he said, it means less competition for him.”

 

“Oh my God,” Aurelia said softly. “I didn’t— I hadn’t considered… that someone not like us could be alright with it. I didn’t think that was possible. Oh my God this- this means so much.”

 

“I was overwhelmed, yeah,” Ezio confessed somewhat sheepishly. Aurelia looked deeply moved by the news. Not necessarily for his sake, even, but in general. What Federico represented. He started to panic slightly as he saw her eyes begin to glisten. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Aurelia sniffed, but smiled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “More than. I’m great. Some sliver of my faith in humanity has been restored. I’m happy for you two, I am. I wish more people could, you know. Not be assholes about it. It’s great to know that at least someone out there is a decent human being. Even if it is your still sort of gross brother.” She let our another small noise of amusement, hands clapped to her cheeks. “I can’t believe he wasn’t a dick about. Freddy Auditore, the man who’s slapped my ass and thought it made him attractive. It didn’t, by the way. Tell him that, I want him to know that.”

 

“Did he really?” That was sleazy even for Federico. “Shit, on behalf of my brother, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine, it was like, two years ago. I think he’s matured a bit. He deserves to be a bit humiliated for it, but I don’t actively dislike him. And shit I can’t believe — wow, he really didn’t mind?”

 

“‘No, he seemed more shocked by it being possible to like both.”

 

“Typical,” Aurelia smiled sideways. “So, what was the other thing? Whatever brought you here for my infinite wisdom? Which I like that you’re doing by the way, I love being like this sexy, young… Pity? Pithy?”

 

“… Pythia?”

 

Aurelia snapped her fingers. “That’s the one, Pythia. Tell your Pythia your woes and I’ll give you awesome advice, I promise.“

 

“You’re right,” Ezio drew in a long breath. “I need your help sneaking into a nunnery.”

 

Aurelia’s face was, for a lack of a better description, horrified and disgusted in equal measure. “If I did not already know you were a changed man, and your prior news were so great” she said slowly, steely, letting the words drag like claws against stone, “I would have killed you right now.”

 

“There’s a nun there who’s there against her will,” Ezio elaborated, as it was clearly needed. “I want to help her.”

 

Aurelia laughed, incredulous. “You’re, what, breaking her out? That what you mean by ‘help’?”

 

“If that’s what she wants,” Ezio said. He didn’t know what Rachele wanted, that was the whole reason for him needing to talk to her. “I can’t know before I’ve asked her.”

 

“Then how do you even know she wants help?”

 

Beating around the bush on this was impossible. Better to do it swiftly, like pulling out a thorn stuck in your skin. “Because her father forced her to do it because he caught me in bed with her. So it’s sort of my fault she’s there.”

 

Aurelia laugher again, this time hysterically, eyes still wide in a sense of horror. “This is fucked up. Severely. I cannot tell you enough how fucked up this is. I mean, good that you’re doing something about it, or you want to do something about it at least. But this is still a really fucked up issue and I need you to know how not normal this is.”

 

“I know. Believe me, I know. My life is doing flips between pure unadulterated joy the likes of which I’ve never experienced before and things so weird they feel like parts of a comedy written by God for His own twisted amusement.”

 

“Makes sense that God would be a man,” Aurelia scoffed, “No woman would be so sadistic without reason.”

 

“Stop that,” Ezio said. “I may not be very devout but your blatant blasphemy makes me anxious. I’m getting hives from listening to you. Next thing you’ll tell me there is no God.”

 

“Of course there’s a God,” Aurelia said, to his (relieved) surprise. “Too much of what happens to us humans is so sensessley mean and random that it has to be deliberate.” The relief was short lived. 

 

“This may sound ironic coming from me,” Ezio said, “But please. Go to church. I beg you.”

 

“I’ve sucker my local pastor’s dick for money too much for that to not be awkward.”  _ God fucking damn it.  _ “Not to mention… you know… yeah, rich words coming from the guy who wants to infiltrate a nunnery.”

 

“ _ A  _ nun, I just want to talk to one.”

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

“Huge. One would send me directly to hell, the other one might just maybe save me from it.”

 

Aurelia leaned back, considering him with narrowed eyes. “Are you doing this for her — or for you?”

 

“Well, both,” Ezio said. “Why?”

 

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know what the difference is, do you?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Ezio insisted. “The outcome is the same.”

 

Aurelia narrowed her eyes further but ultimately waved it off. “Fine, whatever. I don’t have the energy to discuss morals with you. Let’s talk about why you came to  _ me  _ for help and literally no one else. I mean I’m guessing you haven’t asked anyone else?”

 

Ezio shook his head no. “You’re the first person I even bring this up with.”

 

Aurelia leaned her head back with a groan. “ _ Ugh _ I hate responsibility. If I wanted to be a big sister I would have stayed at home.”

 

“You have siblings?” That had to be the first time Aurelia had even mentioned having a family. 

 

“Whatever,” she said, “Let’s get back to the plan. Do you have one?”

 

“This is pretty elaborate, so pay attention,” Ezio said. Aurelia nodded. “First, I sneak in… then I talk to Rachele without anyone noticing. Then I go from there.”

 

“You’re such a dick,” Aurelia bemoaned. “Why did I suddenly decide to give a shit about you?”

 

“I pulled my head out of my own ass?” Ezio suggested. 

 

“Somewhat,” Aurelia tentatively agreed. “Your head is still between your legs, though. Alright,” she clapped her hands together and shifted her feet so that she was sitting with both her legs folded in front of her, tucking her shift down to  _ barely _ cover her groin. It was so cavalier that he couldn’t help but sit up straighter and listen. 

 

“So you obviously need to speak to her alone, which is your biggest problem. Nuns travel and work in groups usually, especially new ones, and you do  _ not  _ want to risk getting caught sneaking into her room at night. Not to mention that it would make her panic. So you need to fully commit to sneaking around unnoticed and learning when she might be alone.”

 

“And watch her? For hours, without her noticing?” Ezio grimaced. “That sounds so creepy.”

 

“Your whole plan is creepy, Ezio. You’re a creep. Accept that or this will never even get off the ground.”

 

He grumbled unhappily. She was right, he probably was a bit of a creep, not that he needed to hear it. “Yeah, alright. First problem there—”

 

“The fact that you’re even considering this isn’t a problem?”

 

“ _ Is  _ that I don’t know how to sneak around. Much. Not during the day, at least, and not in a place with so many people. Which is… sort of where I want your help.”

 

Aurelia raised her hand, opened her mouth to speak — and then let it fall. “Why,  _ why _ do you think I’m the best person to help you?”

 

“Shouldn’t you be good at sneaking around in plain sight? During the day? That’s part of your job as a courtesan, isn’t it?”

 

“I’m out of practice. I don’t stand in street corners anymore, virgin, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

 

“But you know girls who do,” Ezio said. “And could ask them for me?”

 

“I could,” Aurelia nodded. “Why would I?”

 

He hadn’t thought she would do it out of the kindness of her heart. It was a weird request, and time consuming, not to mention just a regular pain in the ass. “What do you want in return?”

 

She raised her brows. “You’re not going to offer me money?”

 

“If that’s what you want,” he said, “But you can get that from anyone. Just thought I’d ask and see if there’s something else.”

 

“I’ll think of something,” she said. “I’ll help you. If anything, it would be hilarious to see you chased out of a nunnery by a flock of angry nuns with flagellants.”

 

Ezio snorted. “Those are heretical, don’t you know?”

 

“Because they’re used for sex?”

 

“No, because Boniface the ninth crucified one of their leaders and declared them heretics — people use them for  _ sex _ ?”

 

“People use anything for sex,” Aurelia said, with the tone of voice one would use to explain something to a small child, “I work in a fucking bordello, virgin, in case you forgot,” she said, waving her hand at the ceiling and room at large for emphasis.

 

“Alright, yeah, fair,” Ezio said. “So you’ll help me?”

 

Aurelia stood and headed over towards her vanity. “Help me do my hair and makeup and I’ll introduce you to some girls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love aurelia so mucj....... i can't believe she wasn't supposed to be a chatacter at first. the "stories" ezio and leo shared about her were just supposed to be stories, then i gave her a name and she said thanks for bringing me to life!! also back off bitch i'm taking the wheel of this crazy train now and i just said *john mulaney voice* ookayyyyyy


	24. SNEAK: 100

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> interlude. set-up for some honest to god future plot and pure indulgence on the author's part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got the highest possible grade on my exam!! yeah boi!! also my professor has a huge crush on Augustus it's adorable, whenever he's mentioned even a little bit she gets all wide-eyed and excited lmao. but she keeps trying to make us watch HBO's Rome and that i refuse. also i'm learning latin now. that's not at all confusing when i already speak some italian no sir

Doing hair was fun. Twisting it and putting it up, braiding it and tying it with ribbons or other decorations were fun, the results were fun, and Ezio would gladly learn more. What little he had done on himself and braiding Aurelia’s hair made him look forward to duplicating the iconic dual buns that he was so used to seeing. From undoing them with grabbing hands and greedy fingers, to doing them up and securing them; he appreciated the rhyme. 

 

Cosmetics, in contrast, were horrible and shouldn’t be used by anyone, no matter the pretty results.  _ Especially  _ when the results weren’t even that pretty, or made little difference. 

 

“The face cream, I get,” Ezio said, holding the small, fragrant jar of olive based cream. The jar was of wood, though he couldn’t tell you what kind, with a crack running along the screw on lid, jagged and still evenly deep. The decorations, a painted on floral pattern crawling along its sides, looked like they had been added on later by a joyful amateur looking to give themselves a luxury with naught but their own talent, free time and paint. Uneven leaves, wonky petals and clashing colours, it was a work that didn’t inspire awe as much as it seemed to make its unassuming contents seem that much more precious for having been stored in something so personal. “I even use something similar myself — but this powder  is just stupid. It smells terrible, why use it when the cream is already there?”

 

The case that held the powder was tin, and completely unadorned. Nothing could make its contents more appealing, no pretty engravings could change the smell. 

 

“To look pale, idiot,” Aurelia said. “That’s the fashion. If I don’t look dead, I don’t look cultured.”

 

“If the patrons wanted to fuck corpses your Madame wouldn’t need you,” Ezio said, still loading the… puffy thing or whatever, in the powder to cover Aurelia’s face. 

 

“It’s mostly translucent, honestly,” Aurelia said. “So I’m already playing it loose. I could use more fancy powder, but it’s so much more expensive. And if you think  _ this  _ smells bad, you should just get a load of the other one. I’m pretty sure it kills your sense of smell. I once saw a girl faint from using too much.”

 

“I don’t doubt it,” Ezio said, patting her face. Aurelia closed her eyes and curled in her lips to smooth her skin out, letting him powder her evenly. To its credit, it smoothed out the numerous though small scars and other groves of her skin, hiding the small, pinkish and almost purple scars. Not that you could see them if you weren’t up close; Ezio hadn’t noticed them before. The lighting in the brothel didn’t exactly lend itself to deep studies of someone’s complexion. “It’s still a stupid fashion.”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” she said. “Next is the eyebrow pencil.” She held out a thin stick of — something darkly coloured. 

 

“Why.”

 

“Most fancy ladies pluck their brows, but theirs usually aren’t thick to begin with. Mine are, and they grow back fast, so I just try to highlight the very middle after the powder’s made them look lighter. Just follow their curve and make a thin line.”

 

“You don’t have thick brows.” They were almost of a size to Ezio’s brows, and his had never been called bushy. Not that anyone had ever said anything about his brows in particular.

 

“Aw, you’re sweet,” she said. “You don’t know shit. Take the pencil.”

 

He did as bid, tracing the arc of them with whatever the tip of the pencil was, leaving behind a thin, dark line that stood out from the rest of her powdered lightened brows. Not that it stood out much, but at least there was some difference that didn’t render the act wholly useless. “Done.”

 

“Great. Now comb my hair,” she handed him a fine-toothed wooden comb that had seen better years, with some of the teeth broken in half and the decorations worn by having been held so many times, the paint flaking from it in places. It did its job though, pulling through the strands easily as long as he minded his technique by starting from the bottom and up, and what more could be asked of it than that?

 

“Who’s gonna teach me?” He asked. 

 

“I was thinking  Beliğ ,” Aurelia said, picking at her nails. “I heard her tell someone she was taking a day off today. She’s up and about through the city a lot, showing off our great establishment’s  _ wide array  _ of different women, being exotic and whatnot. She can also get harassed for the same reason, so she knows how to disappear quickly when she has to. Don’t think you’ll find a girl that thinks better on her feet than her. If she won’t do it, I have like three backup girls, but I don’t think there’s a risk — what with her connection to Isabella and yours to Leonardo. It pays to know people.”

 

“You really do know everything about everyone,” Ezio said, impressed. “Thinking about becoming Madame one day?”

 

“All the time,” she smiled. “I’d be the best.”

 

He didn’t doubt it. “If you ever decide to branch off and make your own brothel somewhere, and you need an accountant, just let me know.”

 

She barked a short laugh. “I will!”

 

* * *

 

 

The corridors had mostly emptied by the time they went to look for  Beliğ , with most of the women having gone down to the first floor to await the customers. The few they ran into didn’t even give Ezio a second glance; Aurelia wasn’t to be questioned, it seemed, and so neither would he be as long as she was tugging him along. Finally they stopped in an unfamiliar part of the building and Aurelia rapped her knuckles against the door three times in rapid succession before immediately opening it.  Beliğ , sitting in a chair with her hair falling loose and her bodice untied, looked up with a thrown and quickly went to stand at the sight of Ezio behind Aurelia. 

 

“Hey,  Beliğ ,” Aurelia called, entering the room. Ezio stepped in after her and pulled the door closed behind them. “What’re you doing tonight?”

 

“Fucking your mother,” she said without skipping a beat. “Why?”

 

“Funny, but cheat on Isabella and I’ll tell di Ser Piero, cross my bleeding heart.” Leonardo wasn’t intimidating enough to be considered a threat, and yet it somehow worked:  Beliğ’s face fell. 

 

“Alright, take it easy. I’m off and without plans for once, but I assume you knew that before you asked.”

 

“Doesn’t hurt to be polite. See, this itty bitty slut here needs to learn how to  _ sneak around  _ and potentially stake out a location, without raising any suspicions. Think you can help him out?”

 

“I know I can. Bigger question is, what the hell is he planning, that he needs to know how to do that?”

 

“Rescue mission,” Aurelia dismisses. “Very noble, or something. You’ll do it?”

 

“If he promises to shut up and listen, sure,” she shrugged. “And he needs to get Leonardo to visit soon; Isabella misses him.”

 

“Done deal,” Aurelia said before Ezio had a chance to respond. “How are you guys doing by the way? How did dinner go?”

 

“An enjoyable disaster,” she grinned. “She’s hopeless in a kitchen, so I had to step in. We had a good time, though.”

 

“Great, I’m so happy for you two, really.”

 

Ezio had been to enough society parties to know what to do. “Me too, I know Leonardo has been over the moon about it. Especially with Isabella being such a dear friend of his.”

 

Score.  Beliğ was actually looking at him now. “Thank you! I’ll tell her you said that, she’ll be so happy to hear it. Do you want to start right away, or…?”

 

_ Yes _ . “If it’s no bother,” he said. “You’re the master, after all.” It felt familiar, slipping into pleasantries, being eager to please, being nice with a purpose behind it. Only the person who stood to gain from it wasn’t just himself, for once. 

 

Both women went  _ ooo _ in chorus. “Master. I like the sound of that,”  Beliğ said. 

 

“Damn, where’s my title?” Aurelia said. 

 

“At a high enough level, what’s the use? Your bears the fame well enough,” Ezio said.

 

Aurelia reached up to pat his cheek, with the force between what you would use on a child and a mild slap. “You smooth little shit. He’s your problem now,  Beliğ , good luck.”

 

“Aurelia,” Ezio stopped her before she walked away. “Thank you. Seriously.”

 

“Don’t thank me yet,” she grinned. “You can stop by and kiss my feet when you’re done.”

 

* * *

 

 

Once Aurelia had crossed her threshold,  Beliğ wasted no time in belaying the basics. She sat Ezio down in a chair and chose to stand herself — all to inspire the sense of authority, he assumed. It was difficult to look up to someone when you were so much taller. 

 

“I see you have rule number one down pat,”  Beliğ observed. “Question is if you knew what you were doing or not.”

 

That would be a no, he had no idea what she meant. “What do you mean?”

 

“Rule number one is to, if you cannot blend in,  _ act  _ as if you belong. Carry yourself with authority you do not feel, as if you being where you shouldn’t is a matter of course. To summarise: be confident. If you look shifty, people are bound to notice. You have to pretend that you belong, even when you don’t.”

 

The concept was familiar to him, at least. “I didn’t have the words to explain what I’d been doing before,” Ezio said, “but I do now. That shouldn’t be a problem, I’m used to acting cocky.”

 

“Mm, I know,” she said. “Good, use it. Rule number two is, if you cannot disappear, be disarming. Carry something or wear something that will make people less want to question you. Your hair right now did that. I don’t think I mentioned, by the way, it looks pretty.”

 

So everyone kept saying. He hadn’t gotten this many compliments so close together in ages. “Thank you.” He had to get a look in a mirror first chance he got. 

 

“Obviously you can’t do your hair like that on the street. But wear something polite, or carry, like… a bible, I don’t know. And people will look at that and consider you more trustworthy. Or carry a box like you’re delivering something, but not something that people would remember. Rule three, be mindful of your surroundings at all times. This is easier to demonstrate and to learn as you go, so I’ll elaborate once we’re outside. Rule four, have a believable lie at the ready, or at least a diversion so you can get away. Rule five, if you’re somewhere you  _ really  _ shouldn’t be, cover your looks so no one can identify you if you get caught. Wear a hood or something, I don’t know. I haven’t done that a lot.”

 

“Isn’t a hood more likely to draw attention?”

 

Beliğ gave him a knowing smile. “Rule number five, don’t attract unnecessary attention. You’re right, but if you’re trying to just hide instead of hide in plain sight, you really don’t want to escape if you’re seen only to have someone come knocking later because they recognised you. A hood can be explained if it’s cold, while a mask can’t.”

 

“I think that sort of —  _ sneaking _ will be the most important,” Ezio said. The act of hiding in plain sight was important, of course, and useful, but if he really wanted to stake out Rachele’s nunnery (not to mention the sneaking he had to do before that to figure out which she had been taken to) he would have to become a shadow. “How do I go unnoticed when I can’t disappear into a crowd?”

 

“Shadows,”  Beliğ said. “Hide away from the light, keep your step light, and be  _ smart _ . It’s mostly just timing, being invisible is all about not being noticed. Avoid being in someone’s line of sight by always keeping them in yours. It’s not easy, none of this is.”

 

“Nothing worth doing ever is,” he sighed. He supposed practice was the only way he might truly learn. Rather he fumble and make errors with little to nothing on the line, than when he stood to lose something important. 

 

“Undo your pretty updo,”  Beliğ told him, “we’re taking this outside.”

 

* * *

 

 

Under the watchful eye of  Beliğ , he walked through crowds to disappear among them, as if hiding from dangerous gazes, even while not knowing where they were coming from, only knowing that he had to hide. He kept an eye on the spot where  Beliğ was — right up until she disappeared. Then he started sweating. He kept mingling, constantly on the move but never leaving the square, trying to catch sight of her again. Until he felt a tap on his shoulder and choked on a scream. 

 

“Good start,”  Beliğ smiled. “You looked at me too often, though. I almost lost you, but your eyes burned my skin so badly I caught you soon after. You need to look at me in the corner of your eye, not head on.”

 

“Right,” Ezio said. “I understand.”

 

“Good,” she clapped his shoulder. “Now find me, and don’t let me catch you.”

 

* * *

 

 

There were only so many times they could switch back and forth, limited options to disguise themselves with just from what was around so as to be unrecognisable for the other. It worked, though, and each time she looked for him, it took her a little longer. Once darkness well and truly fell, she told him to find her room with her in it, and to not use the back door, and to not be seen. 

 

“I don’t even remember where your room was!” he protested. “How can I find it if I can’t ask someone?”

 

“I don’t expect you to succeed on your first try,” she said. “But this is what you’re here for. Sneaking in and finding a room when you can’t ask someone. Find out. I’m going to chat with my friends in the front room for a bit, then go to my room. Give me ten minutes before you follow me.” And she was off.

 

Ten minutes. He scoffed. As if. He wasn’t there to fail, and to wait so long would mean failure. As soon as she turned her back, he joined what shadows there were and scaled the wall. When she looked behind her to see that he was listening, he got to enjoy her startled face when he was nowhere to be found and she looked every which way, searching for any hint of his presence. He didn’t give her one, climbing along behind her, keeping her in sight but maintaining his distance and watching his step. Up high, he recognised he had an advantage only his brother also had, as far as he knew; so few people bothered to look up. They looked at their feet, at the streets, at the people passing by. Up high, he might as well be invisible as long as he kept his silence. Once she was inside the bordello, he kept his word and didn’t enter through the back. He entered through a window. 

 

On the floor he knew  Beliğ’s room was, to be specific. It was the time of night where most of the women would be busy in the front, or at least had little reason to congregate in their hidden hallways. Still he carefully made his way to the stairway and hid as well he could in the corner beside it, so that he was hidden from view to anyone who came up it, while he would see the back of everyone that came. Then he only had to wait. 

 

* * *

 

 

The very second she closed her door behind her, Ezio shot up from his hiding place and gave it a single, decisive knock. 

 

Unlike the sheer astonishment he had expected, or chagrin, maybe even an unhappy frown at his fast success, the face Belig wore as she opened the door was one of self satisfied triumph. A minor hint of teeth in a sideways tilted smirk and slightly raised brows, one hand cocked on her hip. 

 

“Well done, you, I honestly didn’t expect you to get this far,” she told him. “And I’m happy you decided not to listen to me regarding the time limit. When sneaking, time is everything. You’ve got a decent head on your shoulders.”

 

“And a good teacher,” Ezio replied, trying not to beam too brightly with pride. “What’s next?”

 

“Lock picking,” was the unexpected response. “Only I’m not very good at it, since I never had to steal. My friend Maggie, however, is.”

 

That had to be short for Margarita, not that it brought much to mind. He might remember a particularly short girl with delightful natural ringlets, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember anything else about her. Definitely nothing that could explain why she knew how to pick locks. “When can we talk to her?”

 

“She went to entertain a certain Luglio not too long ago, so she should be finished soon. He should, I mean. Poor sod.” She didn’t look as if she pitied him much, and Ezio cracked a smile along with her. 

 

* * *

 

 

Indeed, Maggie barely looked flustered when she opened the door for them. She was a little flushed, though not sweaty, and her dress fixing cling wetly to her sizeable curves like cloth usually did after exercise. She looked suspicious of Ezio, but still welcomed them both inside. 

 

“Made some easy money, have you?” Beliğ teased. 

 

“I almost felt bad taking it,” she said. “So what brings you here?”

 

“Wondering if you’d like to make more easy money, of course,” Belig said. 

 

Maggie frowned at Ezio. “I thought you were going steady with someone. Is that why you’re taking the back door? Being all secretive?”

 

“ _ No _ !” Ezio protested, impulsively and far too forcefully. He cleared his throat at the startled look both women gave him. “No, I — want to learn how to pick locks. Beliğ said you know how.”

 

“I don’t do that anymore.” she said, shifting in place, eyes darting between the two of them fast enough to make you sick if you tried to track them. She wrung her hands in the fabric of her skirt in a way bound to make it wrinkle.“I’m not a thief.”

 

“I know, Maggie,” Beliğ reassured her. “This isn’t for chests or the like, but for doors. Getting into places you shouldn’t and such.”

 

“But you’re like — a nobleman or something,” Maggie said, peering up at Ezio. “You can be in lots of places no questions asked.”

 

“I’m not actually a nobleman, and I couldn’t get into a nunnery even if I was,” Ezio said.

 

“A nunnery?” Maggie said, a hand flying up to her heart. “My… I don’t mean to be-smirk or dirty your character or anything like that —” she said, as if she hadn’t accused him of cheating on someone just before, “—it’s just that it sounds mighty suspicious like, begging your pardon.”

 

“I just want to talk to a nun there, that’s all,” Ezio said and, bending the truth a bit, added, “Her sister misses terribly, and wants to know how she’s doing, but she’s not allowed visitors. So I’m sneaking in to see.”

 

“That’s very odd, but alright,” Maggie conceded. “Alright, promise to use it for good and I’ll teach you to pick locks. You won’t have to pay me, but if you can I’d like you to teach me to write my name.”

 

She couldn’t read or write. He didn’t know why it surprised him, only that he was. Listening to Aurelia’s quick wit, or Beliğ’s almost artful, lilting tone of voice with the accent that only showed up when she wanted it to, you wouldn’t know that neither of them could even write their own names. He’d met men as dumb as rocks that would be bowled over them in a verbal fight, and they had read their classics while the women at the brothel hadn’t. What different lives they led. “Just your name? I’m not a very good teacher, but I can teach you the whole alphabet if you’d like,” Ezio offered. 

 

Maggie waved him off, smiling and looking a lot less nervous. “Oh, that’s alright, I just need to know how to embroider my name so no one can steal my clothes anymore. I’ve not much other use for it.” No use for it. What different lives, indeed.

 

* * *

 

 

He’d not expected lock picking to be so easy. He also hadn’t expected that the trial of it would be one of patience. It wasn’t something you could rush, or force — it was a delicate business, requiring steady hands and slow breathing and keen hearing and feeling. They practiced on her door, since it was easiest, and he damn near bit holes in his bottom lip from the frustration of getting it wrong. He wasn’t a natural of it, the way he was with climbing or, apparently, sneaking about. He might have been less sore for it (for he was shit at plenty of other things too) if it wasn’t for the fact that the tries took so damn long. Once you had plenty of practice and it was as easy as breathing, and the lock wasn’t very difficult, it would still take you almost half a minute to do, which felt like ages when you did it witch the necessary focus. More sophisticated locks would take even a professional a good few minutes. Ezio spent four minutes picking one of the simplest locks there was.

 

Maggie reassured him that he wasn’t likely to encounter any difficult locks in a nunnery, not unless he went after some strong box, which he wasn’t planning on. 

 

“I can’t believe thieves actually bother with this,” Ezio muttered, struggling not to slip with the tiny handle on the pick.

 

“Oh, thieves don’t bother with lock picking for the most part,” Maggie cheerfully informed him. She had turned a lot more cheerful after she started teaching him. One might say that she was in her element. “Forcing locks open takes much less time, not to mention no skill whatsoever.”

 

“Then how do you know it?”

 

“It’s in the past,” she quickly said. “And I’ll thank you not to ask me again.”

 

“Of course, sorry. With you protesting that you weren’t a thief anymore, I thought it meant you had been.”

 

“When I was very little, yes,” she admitted, hanging her head slightly in shame. “Pickpocketing and such. I wasn’t a burglar, and that’s all I have to say about that.”

 

“Fair enough.” Finally, the lock clicked open and a slight push at the door made it give way.

 

Maggie clapped her hands together in a small applause. “There, see! Only took you two minutes this time!” He grinned at the small measure of triumph it brought him. Finally some headway, next time it would be even easier. “Time to move up the difficulty, I have a box for you to try it on.”  _ Fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah not a lot other than set-up happened in this but it wold be so weird if i just had ezi break into a nunnery and not get caught when he has zero training in how to do that. also why does no one in the game teach you to pick locks. if someone does that please remind me but if it isn't a thing that's weird. also yeah this is the only reference to smth that happens in the game except it's not a tutorial for some player so i had to figure out how a person would realistically go about sneaking and i have some experience w that myself so. yeah. 
> 
> related to that the two funniest times i've been Misbehavious was when i was 16 and i stole a whole dozen roses and distributed them among my fellow orchestra members bc we did a good job we deserved nice things. i just said "i'll be taking these now" to the person guarding them and she just went "oh already? okay!" and then i got the fuck out of there i still don't know what they were for but my orchestra pals loved them so yeah. i stole some cider for my best friend that same year by using a similar tactic at a gala (@fancy party service personel stop trusting teenage girls you've never met before!!) but she made me return it :( but to be clear i haven't lifted anything from a store since i was six and have never stolen from a workplace, but i think stealing stuff from fancy parties and galas and shit is such a good time. shitty speech, asshole, i know you don't care about the community. i will be taking your personal whiteboard pen when you aren't looking now.


	25. amatum optimus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a sibling: *is nice* :)
> 
> other sibling: what do you want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> claudia: mum said it's my turn to throw a wrench into ezio's plans 
> 
> ok but yeah claudia and ezio here are very much based on me and my younger brother's relationship. he can hate me like there's no tomorrow and the next day he's the sweetest little boy who ever lived. bc i have a ps4 and he doesn't. now that i live away from home he expresses these mercurial moods by spamming me with memes and talking about his day or he just. bullies me via text. "hey bro how did the test go?" "baby yoda hates you." "damn ok"  
> basically i diagnose him and claudia both with "teenage younger sibling syndrome"

When Ezio returned home late that night, to the certain future fury of his parents and likely sister as well, he got the privilege of being startled by Federico’s presence in his room. He was, in fact, startled so badly by the sight of his own flesh and blood sitting in a chair calmly reading with his back slouched and legs crossed casual as you please, that he nearly knocked over a vas. And table it was standing on. 

 

“ _ Shit _ , shit, fuck,” he cursed as he tried to catch it without letting it tumble to the floor. He succeeded, but it was a near thing. He then flared and hissed at his brother, “What the hell are you doing in my room, Rico?!”

 

“Reading, little brother,” he said, flipping a page and not looking up. “Waiting for an idiot to show up. Let me know if you see him, will you?”

 

“Of course. Look in the mirror over there and you’ll find him right quick.”

 

Federico slapped his book shut and put it aside before folding his hands in his lap, looking up at Ezio in a way not dissimilar to their father’s ‘you damn imbecile’ face. “I was alright with your  _ friendship  _ earlier today in part because it seemed to be making that thing you call head on your shoulders ring a little less empty — and then you pull a disappearing act, without explanation, two days before our parents decide whether to crucify Leonardo or not? We waited for you for an hour before dinner, you know. Petruccio looked miserable. Claudia is ready to rake you over coals, to say nothing of our dear eternally young mamma. What the  _ fuck _ , Ezio? They’re going to figure it out if you go on like this, staying with him more than here, not even letting us know if you’re coming home or not.”

 

Ezio threw his hands up. “I wasn’t even with Leonardo! I left him maybe two hours after you did! And you told them I was there, are you  _ serious _ ?”

 

Federico gave him a withering look and pushed himself off his  chair to stand. “Of course I didn’t, I told them I had no idea where you were. I told them the  _ truth.  _ But I didn’t exactly have to plant the idea in their heads, you’ve done that well enough on your own.”

 

“I wasn’t with him,” Ezio insisted. “I was — learning new skills.”

 

Federico raised his brows and held up a finger, “Now that,” he said, “sounded suspicious as hell. Elaborate.”

 

“Lock picking,” Ezio said, taking delight in the confusion that graced his brother’s face. “Disguises. How to use cosmetics. Aurelia had me do both her hair and makeup this time, so that’s something. Did you know there’s makeup for eyebrows?”

 

Federico stared at him, slack jawed. Then he laughed. A quiet thing, not loud and boisterous; the sort that made his shoulders shake and made him shake his head. He stepped closer to clap Ezio on the shoulder and, still laughing, said, “You know, usually when someone is accused of befriending and consorting with courtesans… it’s for helping them  _ un _ dress.”

 

“I’ve already done that, why not change it up a little?”

 

“True enough,” his brother said. Then he clapped him on his shoulder again. “Damn, I’m too tired to stay angry with you. At least this means you weren’t spotted leaving Leonardo’s so late, and instead visiting your usual old haunt. It might even be smart.”

 

Not that Ezio had let anyone see him around the bordello, or his lessons were for nothing, though Federico didn’t need to know that. Nor about his newfound skills on sneaking about, since there was no easy explanation for that. “I’m what? I couldn’t hear you.”

 

“I said you were an idiot,” his brother grinned, making Ezio lay a hand over his heart and play at being wounded. “I’m going back to bed seeing as my watch is over. Good night, Ezio, please wake up at a reasonable hour.”

 

“Only if you do it first.”

 

* * *

 

 

As it happens, Ezio had a series of flashes of dreams he couldn’t remember when waking up, and had himself a cosy little lie in. For as long as it lasted before his mother knocked so hard in the door it was amazing that it didn’t fall down into a heap of sad little splinters. 

 

Federico also had a lie in, which made him feel a lot better. Whether his sleep in was genuine or a result of brotherly solidarity in the face of peril, he didn’t know and didn’t think it mattered. 

 

After that, lessons. Boring lessons, continuing of the day before, interspersed with moments where Claudia glared daggers at him and Petruccio looked uncharacteristically shifty. Meanwhile his father had banking business, and his mother handled business in the general sense. Out of the two, her managing of the servants’ pay and planning of their expenses honestly sounded more important than his meeting an old friend to confirm said friendship, which he told her. “Don’t say such things, it’s disrespectful to your father,” she chastised him, while the slightly upwards curled corners of her lips and twinkle in her eye told her true thoughts. 

 

And needless to say, once he was free from lessons he was off like a shot towards the door and streets outside, eager to tell Leonardo of and show him his new tricks. 

 

He didn’t even make it out the door — stopped by the short, slender, prettily dressed and terrifying presence of Claudia. 

 

“I am going with you,” she informed him, nose up in the air. 

 

“Are you?” Ezio folded his arms across his chest. “Going with me where, exactly?”

 

“To visit di Ser Piero, of course,” she said pleasantly. Ezio could already feel a headache beginning to bloom and spread its thorny vines throughout his brains. 

 

“You’ll meet him tomorrow,” he said, walking past her. She stopped him by gripping his sleeve and tugging. You wouldn’t have accepted her to be strong enough to do so just from her embroidery and singing. 

 

“You know I won’t,” she said. “No one is ever themselves in such circumstances. Unlike our father, I  _ actually  _ want to know him.” Her time was polite by all accounts, and yet the emphasis on the ‘actually’, the way her dark eyes bored into his with meaning, the tightness of her mouth; whatever her exact thoughts were, they sure as hell weren’t  _ actually  _ polite. 

 

She was right, of course, he was only surprised that she cared. The phrasing of it, especially, piqued his interest, so much that he didn’t really think before he said “Alright, come with,” and used the hand belonging to the sleeve she had pulled to in turn grab her wrist. Not for long of course (he didn’t feel like losing a limb that day), only to signal that he was bringing her with him. Even more of a surprise though, was that she crooked her arm around his so that he was surely and inescapably escorting her. 

 

Just a bit away from their doorstep he asked, loud enough for Claudia to hear him and to not be mistaken for a whisper, but not so loud that someone could easily listen in, he asked “What was your point about father?”

 

“We haven’t exactly been getting along lately due to you being an  _ ass _ ,” she said, both pleasantly and biting at the same time, “Still, I don’t think it’s fair of father to try to use your friend as a weapon against you. To what end? What the hell does he stand to gain by this, except getting some control over you back, as if he ever had it in the first place? I don’t like it, I wouldn’t have liked it if he did that to me or to Federico, either. Your friendship is suspicious, sure, and of course I’m curious about the man you’ve supposedly turned over on a new leaf for. And I know I won’t be getting any such answers tomorrow, with the two of you busy trying to get through it unschathed.”

 

Irritation nagged at the skin by his neck. “If all you want is to interrogate him on your own, I refuse to let you see him,” Ezio said.

 

She made a noise of frustration. “Did you not listen? I am telling you that there is a clear difference between getting to know someone and interrogating them. One is done for both your sakes, the other is entirely selfish.”

 

He disagreed. ‘Getting to know someone’ could just as easily be used for manipulation and interrogation could just as easily be done for someone’s but the interrogator’s benefit. For someone else’s safety or yours (which was simply smart depending on the situation, not selfish), to establish whether or not one would hurt your loved ones, as well as to on a darker note find weaknesses for nefarious purposes. You could get to know someone to create a new relationship such as a friendship — and you might be doing that because you honestly desired a friend, or because you thought such a friendship might be advantageous for you. Any sort of interaction could be twisted to be negative, just as much as it could be positive. What mattered was the intent. While he knew this, he didn’t in the flash that it took for him to think that he disagreed have a way to put it into words, and he didn’t have the energy to try to debate with Claudia over it. He would try to take the somewhat dubious olive branch for what it was, however temporary it might be. 

 

“Not really, but fine,” he said. “I’m stopping to get flowers on the way, though.”

 

Claudia looked at him as if she didn’t recognise him. “Why, exactly?”

 

“As an apology for exposing him to two unexpected guests two days in a row,” he said, with attempted and barely managed patience. She scoffed. It was a subdued scoff, and not very pronounced, but to his ears it was as loud as a cannonball. What morally bankrupt reason would she suspect him to buy flowers for, that she would look at him and question him in with such a tone? “What, did you think I was going to use them to poison him or something? Or maybe I’m getting them for this mysterious lover you’ve accused me of having I think twice now?” Alright, so maybe that wasn’t so patient or diplomatic. Neither had her scoff been.

 

“Yes, actually,” she said haughtily, just to fucking spite him probably. “Just because you are friends with di Ser Piero, does not mean you can’t also have a lover. Do not think your late return last night went unnoticed.” She was right in that case, he had to admit, if not in the way she would expect or want to be. “We’ll see if you can prove me wrong.”

 

“I won’t let you harass him,” Ezio said. Claudia’s grip on his arm grew tight. 

 

“I won’t, at least not intentionally,” Claudia said, somewhat gently. “If anything, I will harass you. I believe I’m already doing it, so I can just carry on with that.” There was somewhat of a smile there, to show that she was joking. Mostly, at least. 

 

Ezio sighed and said nothing. After that, they let an uncomfortable silence fall that neither was willing to breech, not even when Ezio browsed the markets for flowers. He settled on a wild bouquet. Simple, perhaps, and not as fine and lovely as some of the others. He picked them because he knew Leonardo would appreciate their simple and natural beauty, and they way none of them were alike the others and the cacophony of noise just looking at it brought. He would want to sketch it, he knew, try to capture each individual flaw in every petal and stem and the way they came together, weave it into a flat bouquet on his paper like nature had weaved it. Claudia said nothing, only raising a skeptical brow at his choice. Of course she would find it strange when he had said that it was a gift of apology, as an overture of respect. She would have tried to impress him with something flashy and expensive, such as roses or a lot of carnations. An apology gift, as they had been raised, was something meant more for the person giving it than receiving it, as it was they who benefited. It was an investment into the relationship and a way to remain morally superior, a way to show social and financial dominance will still seeming pious and generous and humble. 

 

His wildflower bouquet was a sentimental gift fit for two people head over heels in love, from a child to their parent, or between siblings that had a close relationship. It was something that showed  _ I saw this and thought of you and the joy that you might get from it _ , rather than  _ this is appropriate _ . It spoke volumes of how close Ezio and Leonardo were and he took a risk in picking it. Likely, what was going through Claudia’s head was not “oh Lord, they are fucking” but rather that Ezio hadn’t paid attention to memorise their lesson in flowers and the manners tied to them, and had instead just picked  _ whatever _ ; something he could decide on quickly that looked masculine in its sloppiness and that wasn’t terribly expensive. She would think he was doing the bare minimum required of him. Unless she had taken his defensiveness over Leonardo to heart, and this had planted a seed of curiosity in her. In any case, she was likely to watch Leonardo’s reaction closely. 

 

* * *

 

 

“This is where he lives?” Claudia questioned, looking not… disgusted, as much as dubious as to the tiny and inconspicuous entrance to Leonardo’s home and the area surrounding it. Right, Ezio remembered that most of the people she visited would be her well off friends, and she stayed far away from the taverns and brothels her older brothers were so familiar with. He wondered if she had ever been in such a comparatively poor home before. 

 

“Don’t worry, being plebeian isn’t contagious,” Ezio quipped as he stepped forward to knock on the door.

 

“I would have thought with his father’s status…” she trailed off.

 

“Friendly advice: don’t.” Do not think, do not assume, simply do  _ not _ , because you couldn’t pretend to know anything based on so little. Not with Leonardo, not before you knew him. 

 

As the door creaked and swung open Ezio brought the flowers up to his chest so that the first thing Leonardo would see would be his lover, smiling at his doorstep holding flowers. Hopefully it would lessen the blow of yet another uninvited sibling, this one a lot less fun and accepting. True enough, Leonardo broke out into a while, sunshine like smile and said “Ezio!” before his gaze landed on Claudia and he grew more neutral. It was still a smile, only closed mouthed and tighter than his natural smiles were. No one but Ezio could usually tell the difference. Usually — the suddenness of the shift would have been enough to signal Claudia that it was fake. “And Claudia Auditore, I believe. I have heard much about you, it’s a pleasure to finally be acquainted.”

 

“Likewise,” she said politely. “Forgive me, I was so eager to meet you I simply could not wait another day.” Oh  _ horseshit.  _ “I swear I won’t be intruding for long.”

 

“I’m flattered,” Leonardo replied. To Ezio it was clear he did not buy it for a second. “Please, do come in.” He stepped aside to let them pass. Ezio stepped in first and used the short time where his eyes weren’t visible to Claudia to show as much apology and pain in his eyes as he could, hoping Leonardo would catch it. 

 

“I know better than to ask if you have a vase,” Ezio said, only partly as a joke, “So I just want to know if you have something that might work as a vase-substitute?”

 

“Those are for me?” Leonardo asked, and the gentle glimmer in his slightly widened eyes and the way he gestured his hand to himself and let it rest under his collarbone made Ezio want to kiss him desperately.

 

“No I just brought them to your home and asked for a vase for no reason,” he quipped and got to enjoy a sudden flush to Leonardo’s cheeks. Then his eyes got Claudia, still by the door, eyes as wide as saucers and a hand elegantly covering her mouth. Oh, right, seeing Leonardo’s workshop for the first time. The  _ horror.  _

 

Apparently Leonardo saw it too. “I apologise for the mess, had I known I was having guests over I would have cleaned up beforehand,” he said apologetically. Horseshit. He hadn’t even cleaned for Maria Auditore, he wouldn’t clean for the  _ Pope.  _ Jesus Himself could rise and come to visit, giving plenty of forewarning, and Leonardo would say  _ I’m so sorry about the mess, I got so caught up in my work that I lost track of the days.  _

 

“The cost of genius,” Ezio joker to his sister. “He puts so much care into his science and art that there’s none left for himself and his surroundings.”

 

There might have been a vein throbbing at her temple, or it could have been a trick of the light. Clear enough was that her smile was fake. “I applaud your work ethic,” she said. She looked none too subtly at Ezio. “It’s sadly rare to see someone truly take their work seriously.” Naturally she hadn’t been able to resist that dig at him. Ezio would have laughed instead of being offended, if not for her continued serious tone, and her forcing herself into what he had hoped to be precious private time with his lover. 

 

“Thank you, you flatter me! Although I cannot claim the same, since I live surrounded by workers much busier than I, all of whom treat their crafts with the utmost dedication. I imagine, however, that among the upper class there are people to be found who are as fortunate as to have plenty of time for leisure.” 

 

Oh no. Oh  _ no.  _ Was this what Leonardo was like when angry at someone? It seemed like it, even though it confused Ezio seeing as he had no idea what might have set him off. Not that it was such a catastrophic insult, it likely only counted as one if you had thin skin or knew Leonardo well. But Claudia seemed to have noticed, going by the tightness of her jaw. He had to defuse things. 

 

He laughed loudly and waved everything off. “You don’t have to imagine things when I’m here to confirm them,” he joked. “My friends and I aren’t exactly looked up to for our work ethic.” It must have killed Claudia to not be able to say that she wasn’t aware anyone at all looked up to them. There was nothing worse than a clear retort hanging in the air you weren’t allowed to use. 

 

Before an awkward silence could settle, be continued. “Claudia, I am sure you’d love to see why we all so laud Leonardo’s work. Leonardo, I am sure you would love to explain your inventions to a fresh new perspective. I’ll be in the kitchen to see if I can find something for these,” he waved the bouquet. Leonardo’s eyes did light up at that, while Claudia looked harried, and so Ezio turned and fled the scene. 

 

Without him there to remind them of why there could be tension and even animosity between them over the subject of  _ him _ , maybe they might actually make friends. There was almost a spell around Leonardo, that especially worked if you were the singular focus of his attention. He had seen it with Isabella, his mother, Eduardo, the seeds of it in other workers at the bordello,  and of course, himself. Ezio went to go through Leonardo’s cupboards for whatever might work as a vase, straining his ears all the while just in case he could catch some conversation in the other room. 

 

He hoped all it would take was for Claudia to see some sketches and schematics to change her tune and cease with the undeserved hostility aimed at the artist. It was truly nearly impossible to be in his company, and the focus of his wit and charm, and see his genius first hand, and not like him. Him being so handsome was also a bonus, of course. 

 

That thought made him freeze with his hand around the handle of a carafe. Only for a second until he relaxed his grip and thoughts; Leonardo was much too common for his sister to truly be interested in. Unlike Ezio, she did have plans to make their parents proud one day. He believed. Possibly. 

 

He considered what he knew of his sister’s ambitions and wants while placing the flowers, and found that he couldn’t be certain he knew anything. As he filled the “vase” with water, it occurred to him that he’d never asked her, he hadn’t even heard her speak of it. All he knew was what his parents said of her future; which was  _ not  _ a reliable source of information based on what they thought of him. He basically knew nothing about her, he rarely found out about her boyfriends before it turned out they needed a beating. He wasn’t even sure who her best friend was, if it was still Georgiana whom she played with when she was still young enough to play. 

 

Fuck, he knew more about a group of sex worker’s wants, aspirations and relationships than his own sister. When had he let that happened? Was this another relationship he had let turn sour because of his heartbreak and subsequent self-pity — or had he began to neglect it long before that? 

 

He was so deep in his own thoughts that once he headed back to his sister and his lover, it took him longer than usual to register what they were doing. When he did, he almost dropped the vase. 

 

Somehow, in the not even five minutes he had left them in each other’s company, Leonardo had shown Claudia one of his schematics and she was now pouring it over, and they were in the middle of a mutual,  _ not  _ aggressive debate over it. Claudia was talking in a rapid pace, but her brows were smooth and free of stress and the seething judgement that had been present in them lately. 

 

“— start of with a simple glider, see how far it can fly with no other powers and a man attached to it. Your theories are sound but I don’t see you making any actual progress until you’ve tried out that much.”

 

Leonardo was just as quick in his answer. “I had considered that, the problem is that it’s too great a risk for someone to take, should they immediately plummet and not lift off at all!”

 

“Then do it at sea,” Claudia insisted. “From the top mast of a ship, so that they will land in water.”

 

“The height wouldn’t be great enough to justify it, and besides a landing in water from a height can be nearly as damaging as landing on the ground due to the surface tension. Not to mention what will happen if they cannot get off the machine and are pinned under its sinking weight.”

 

“I concede your last point, although I would argue that from a height as great as a ship’s mast, the danger of the surface tension isn’t too high. It is the best, safe first attempt to see if it works for more than a meter or so. All you need is a rough estimate.”

 

“Sorry to butt in on you like this, especially when you both sound weirdly into whatever discussion you’re having,” Ezio said, almost wincing when they both whipped their heads up go look at him. “Where do I put this?” He asked, holding up the vase. He didn’t know what to do with them making  _ knowledge _ -friends. He didn’t know Claudia even liked science. 

 

“Oh,” Leonardo said, eyes softening at the sight of the flowers, “They’re wonderful, Ezio. Let’s put them here for now, I can always just move them to be within eyesight of wherever I work,” he said with a tap to the table he and Claudia were leaned over, though not where the schematic was spread out. 

 

“Messere di Piero was just showing me the sketches of this flying tool that caught my eye,” Claudia said in response to the question Ezio had forgot to clearly ask. “I couldn’t stop myself from taking the liberty to offer my thoughts.”

 

“An offer I much appreciate,” Leonardo said, “Everyone gets caught in their own singular perspective so easily that only another insight can ensure that progress continues. I am often my worst enemy in such cases, I fear.”

 

“Your perfectionism definitely doesn’t help,” Ezio teased, and was rewarded with a small smile. “Nor the sheer amount of ideas. I don’t even remember how many flying machines you’ve got sketched out here somewhere.”

 

Claudia almost reared her head back in surprise. “You have more flying machines?”

 

“Ezio exaggerates,” Leonardo was clearly flustered now, “They’re barely more than half-formed ideas at most,” Leonardo continued, humble as always. 

 

“That is more than what most can say,” she said. “You should bring some tomorrow, if you don’t mind. I think our younger brother would be delighted to see them.” And winning Petruccio’s favour was the best and quickest way to win over the rest of the family. Shit, Claudia was helping them  _ strategise _ ; how had this happened?

 

“That’s a great idea,” Ezio said, “I think our father might be interested in them as well.” He might, Ezio didn’t know for sure. 

 

Leonardo looked between the two siblings, at a loss for words, before clapping his hands together with his usual beam and quipping “I suppose you leave me no choice.”

 

* * *

 

 

Claudia made her excuses and left not long after that; having been content after seeing some more of Leonardo’s work, in particular his sketches. She had been most fascinated by the anatomical, creepy ones. That, somehow, didn’t come as a surprise. Ezio himself didn’t say much, both because Claudia and Leonardo seemed content to babble science too quickly for him to follow and because the shock of them getting along so well still hadn’t worn off. He was afraid if he said too much, he might ruin it. 

 

So he didn’t long for Claudia to leave like he had thought he would, since as horrifying as it was, it did feel good to see them get on like a house on fire as he had so feared the opposite. He still felt relieved when she did leave, though, since he couldn’t very well kiss Leonardo in front of her, but Leonardo looked so  _ damn _ kissable when he was so vibrant with excitement. The door barely had time to click as it fell closed before he was on Leonardo and kissing him deeply.

 

Leonardo let out a muffled noise of surprise before melting into it, letting it go on for a minute before he made them separate. “Well, hello to you too,” he said, to which Ezio snorted.

 

“I wanted to say sorry for springing her on you like that, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Ezio said, “Though somehow, I don’t think you minded it so much.”

 

“I will admit to having been nervous right there at the start,” his lover said wryly, “Though yes, she proved to be quite different to how you have described her. I had no idea she was so fascinated by the scientific arts.”

 

“Neither did I,” Ezio confessed. “Did you like the flowers?”

 

Leonardo kissed him — more chaste than the last, but not with less feeling. “I do, thank you. Today is full of surprises, it seems. Speaking of, what was it that you talked about yesterday?”

 

Ah… “There is no easy way to say this,” Ezio began, and regretted doing so when he saw Leonardo immediately turn worried. “It’s nothing to do with you, just — can we sit down? It was enough to make Aurelia’s jaw drop, so I don’t want you to faint.” 

 

“Oh, God.” Leonardo definitely did not look less worried. He dropped into the closest chair without any of his usual elegance. Ezio pulled out a chair and angled it to sit facing Leonardo.

 

“I went to Aurelia to ask for help yesterday,” he began, “to plan a plan I don’t think you will approve of.”

 

“I thought you didn’t want me to faint,” Leonardo said faintly. 

 

True — he needed to cut to the chase, the build up wasn’t helping. He rubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. He looked at the floor, to avoid looking Leonardo in the eye. “I’m breaking into a nunnery to find Rachele, so that I can offer her my help of escape, if she wants it.”

 

There was a beat of silence. Ezio kept his gaze fixed, only looking up when he heard Leonardo beginning to laugh. “Well!” Leonardo said, still struggling to keep the laughter down, “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you KNOW leonardo would be down to clown w ezio's bad ideas!!! you know he's not in it just for the friendship or codex pages in ac2 he's a CHAOTIC GOOD and that's a FACT. yes of COURSE we should go through with your mad plan and try out this invention from a lethal height and have you fly over ACTUAL BONFIRES while being SHOT AT. modern day leo would be a MYTH BUSTER. these are FACTS ONLY
> 
> giovanni is gonna be so surprised when he sneakily makes a mean comment about leonardo to ezio and both federico and claudia are ready to throw hands and also petruccio starts crying. his wife is threatening divorce. in la rosa colta there's an "insulted twink" alarm going off and all the prostitutes gear up for war. rumour spreads and the little old lady who lives next to leo grabs her purse and starts swinging. leo's mum teleports. leo didn't even hear it he just sees that everyone is upset so he gets angry and wants to know who hurt them. 
> 
> btw there probably wont' be a chapter next week!! i'm going to Stockholm to visit my best friend and will be too busy having fun and making inside jokes about goats to write.


	26. portae apertas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a climb is done, skyrim skills are passed on, a pov change occurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no plot, this is all character introspection and fun folks!
> 
> i'm single again. and had a great time in stockholm, it snowed while i was there!! and i celebrated first Advent with my best friend, which was incredibly cosy. she gave me a tea christmas calendar and she got a baby llama plushie from me. sending you great holiday spirit, everyone, may someone bless you with tea or plush animals this december <3 also there's an english shop in stockholm old town that sells nando's sauce and marinade holy fucking shit. i stocked up good. also fun fact pompeii is about the size of stockholm old town. 
> 
> there is a POV change yeah. bc most of the second half of the chapter was written when i was planning out this story and hadn't yet decided if i was only gonna do ezio's pov or make every other chapter leonardo's whoops.

“I thought you would tell me I’m being stupid,” Ezio said, stunned. “That it’s rash, and not a good idea. It’s immoral.”

 

“You’re doing it for a good cause,” Leonardo said. He reached forward and took Ezio’s hand. “To help someone you’ve wronged. Of course I’m on board, I’m proud of you.”

 

“I’m breaking into a  _ nunnery, _ ” Ezio insisted. Had Leonardo not heard him correctly? “That’s a dumb risk, what if I get caught?”

 

“I don’t believe you will,” Leonardo said, just as insistent. “I suppose that’s why you needed Aurelia’s help? To make sure you don’t get caught?”

 

“Indirectly,” Ezio said, a little faint. “Belig taught me to blend in and to hide, Maggie how to pick locks. And I already know how to climb, so I can get around in ways others can’t.”

 

Leonardo let out a small breath of wonder, his eyes lighting up. “Lock picking! What a marvellous skill, I would be happy if you could teach me sometime. This sounds like such an adventure! I wish I could come with you, but I think we both know I would be more hindrance than help.”

 

Ezio did not think it was possible for him to love this man more if he tried. They had remained closed in in their own little world of Leonardo’s home for too long; now that Leonardo had said it, Ezio wanted nothing more than to take him on an adventure. The opportunities for such things came rarely, of course, but they could go look for it. In reality, there was not a chance that either of them could leave Firenze anytime soon. In his mind and soul, though, he longed for nothing more.

“If only because I don’t think Rachele would trust me if I bring a stranger. Especially since she has no reason to trust me to begin with.” He brought Leonardo’s hand up and pressed his lips against his knuckles. “I would, however, love to teach you lock-picking. And, now that you mention it… we haven’t climbed together in a while. Is that something you’re still interested in.”

 

Leonardo twined their fingers together, and his smile was both giddy and shy. “I was afraid to ask, in case you found me a lost cause,” he joked, though the at least partial reality of it was clear, “ _ Yes,  _ micio _. _ I would love to go climbing with you.”

 

“Then it is decided,” he said, squeezing the fingers between his own back. “If you like, we can do it later today. Before dusk, so that not as many are outside, but we still have light enough to climb. In the meanwhile, I can teach you lock picking.”

 

Leonardo was continually proving himself to be even smoother than Ezio had previously thought, when he wanted to be, then especially in the swift and decisive move he made from his chair, to straddling Ezio’s lap. 

 

“What—“

 

One hand went around his neck and the other to grab his waist, while Leonardo also went in for the kill with a kiss so deep as to leave Ezio feeling like a drowning man. 

 

Just as his brain had understood the sudden change of situations and he was no longer kissing back on pure instinct but with motive, Leonardo pulled back and off his lap, standing up next to him like a tower from Ezio’s lower point of view. A few tug on his clothes and it was as if it had never happened, while Ezio himself was still sitting there with his mouth hanging open and a cock saying “ _ top of the morning, to you! _ ”

 

“No time to waste,” Leonardo said brightly. The little  _ shit.  _

 

* * *

 

 

Leonardo was a natural with lockpicks. It made sense once Ezio considered it, he did have an affinity for technology at large, it was natural that he would be as good at picking locks as he was at understanding the mechanism within. If it was anyone else, Ezio would have envied them their ease with a skill that had made him so impatient. Only, this was Leonardo, and he was an exception to every rule. When he made a lock click open in less than three minutes, turning to Ezio with such beaming cheer, Ezio could only say that he was proud. And maybe a bit turned on. 

 

“I feel as if the world is at my fingertips,” his lover gleefully declared, rolling the lockpicks between his fingers with a casual ease. “I have spent most of my life up to this point forcing open doors that are closed to me, and only sometimes succeeding. Now I can literally pick them.” 

 

What a thing to imagine, life’s difficulties as a long line of doors. How many were they — what would they find at the end? Had anyone gotten that far?

 

“No safe is safe,” Ezio agreed with a smirk. Leonardo was in such a good mood that he didn’t even groan at the abominable pun. “Does this bode the beginning of a career as a master thief?”

 

“I don’t think I have the patience for your sneaking, from what you’ve described it as,” Leonardo said. “And what a poor thief I would be, stumbling through some rich man’s house in search of his fine literature, waking up all and sundry with my excited stomping over his first editions.” Naturally, he would be stealing books. It was quite clever, really — the authorities would enter his home to search it, see the stacks of books and give up halfway through. 

 

“You underestimate your abilities,” Ezio said. It was so different to what he was used to seeing in people; Leonardo was a natural at almost everything, and  _ still _ he actively resisted acknowledgements of his skills. 

 

“You flatter me,” Leonardo said, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “You sound as if you’re trying to convince me to actually become a master thief, though. Tell me, have you secretly been part of the thieves’ guild this whole time?”

 

Ezio let out a snort of amusement. “There’s a thieves’ guild?” What the hell, what would that even look like? “What do they do, plan heists? Steal from the Vatican every now and again?”

 

“Pickpocketing, mostly, if I understand correctly,” Leonardo shrugged. 

 

“They need a guild for that?” 

 

“I’m not a master thief yet, micio, I’m not yet familiar with the ins and outs of their operation.”

 

A short laugh. “So how did you know they exist in the first place, then?”

 

“Isabella told me. How she knows of it, I don’t know. I thought it best not to ask.”

 

The implication that someone as sweet and shy as Isabella could be in any way connected to a  _ thieves’ guild  _ made Ezio’s blood run cold for reasons he could not explain. It must have shown on his face, going by Leonardo’s amused look. “Yes, I was quite shocked too,” he said. 

 

Ezio shook his head, and the sudden unrest under his skin remained. Shaking didn’t help; he needed to clear it. “Sorry for changing the subject, but I think the streets are clearing up. Do you feel like going for a climb and run?”

 

Leonardo’s eyes sparkled as he grinned. “I’ll go change my clothes.”

 

“Need any help taking them off, tesoro?” Ezio couldn’t help but ask. 

 

His lover shot him a look of bemusement. “Not if I  _ actually _ want to get changed, thank you.” Then he did something he had never done before: he winked. “Let’s make that our mutual reward for a job well done later, shall we?” And then he walked off and up — leaving Ezio alone to gather his jaw off the floor. 

 

Every drop of blood in  Ezio’s brain dropped downwards. He let his head fall backwards and stared at the ceiling. Maybe if he glared hard enough, God would notice. “Fuck.”

 

* * *

 

 

Leonardo had dressed in a style very similarly to Ezio’s own, though his jerkin was not as elaborately embroidered or finely made. Work clothes, they had to be. Dark brown and unassuming trousers and jerkin, with a linen shirt underneath. Sturdy boots with scuff marks on them, and not as clean as his usual pair. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and had even tied his hair back and away from his face. He had no right to look that attractive in those clothes. 

 

“How are you even sexier than usual dressed  _ down? _ ” Ezio asked in wonder. 

 

Leonardo’s lips twitched. “Why, am I distracting?”

 

“You know you are,” Ezio smirked right back. “Luckily for you, I can climb with my eyes closed.”

 

The look he got was a mix of curiosity, admiration and (by the up and down he received)  _ hunger.  _ “Can you really?”

 

“I don’t know,” Ezio shrugged. “I can climb when it’s dark, so I expect so. Climbing  _ is  _ more about feeling than seeing.” It seemed as good a point as any to start off with the most important lesson of all, so he continued, “Jumping especially so. It’s all about feeling — when you’re running you don’t have time to think, you just  _ do _ , and trust that you will stick the landing on the other side. Hesitation is lethal, and thinking brings with it hesitation.  _ Feel _ , and you will know if you can climb blind. Feel if you can make the jump, reach that ledge, fall safely.”

 

“How—“ Leonardo looked uncertain, “I am always thinking, always. How do I learn to go with feeling?”

 

“You don’t,” Ezio said. “It’s about trusting yourself and your body to know one another. It’s not a skill — it’s trust. It’s a leap of faith. That’s all it is.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

A leap of faith, he says, as if it is the simplest thing in the world.  _ A leap of faith. That’s all it is.  _ As if it was as easy as breathing, and something inevitable rather than a thing Leonardo would have to force himself to learn. He didn’t choose who to trust, although he chose who to put his trust  _ in _ , who he would trust to get to know him, despite the danger it could bring on them both. Ezio knew how to duck underneath and break through all of his carefully laid and enforced defences; and he did it all without meaning to. 

 

_ Feel, don’t think.  _ Leonardo was not a man who was out of tune with his emotions — he had to be aware of them in order to hide them and choose which ones to display. His art was feeling, the muscle memory of his fingers was feeling. But it was always carefully tamed by thought, harnessed and brought to near perfection (or as close to it as he could get) by his thinking. He always felt and then thought before he acted, never did he let himself be swept up by the strongest of emotion and act on them impulsively. Such things could get him killed. Only Ezio made him break that rule, too. 

 

He had kissed him that first time (or had he been kissed?) and thought he would wake to a relationship in ruins, and Ezio surprised him. He had despised himself for even daring to flirt with the man, and Ezio surprised him by flirting back. All his life he had been holding back from the intimacy he desired, he craved, and told himself it was for the best, that he should be glad for what little he got. Then Ezio surprised him. And continued to surprise him by coming back, by wanting more than just the physicalities he hadn’t known were an option; he had wanted, and continued to want Leonardo for who he  _ was  _ rather than for what he could offer. 

 

Leonardo didn’t know what to do with that, other than to take everything he could get, every possible scrap of affection offered like a near dead thing at a desert oasis. He was being terribly selfish, he knew that, taking advantage of someone he cared for so much rather than let him see what else the world might lay at their feet, what better offerings fate had in store. Ezio would leave — this was inevitable. He would take what he could get, and face whatever judgement would befall him down the line. 

 

For now, Ezio was teaching him to fly. 

 

“Come on!” Ezio called from across the divide, the street only three floors below them and so far all the same, standing on the building opposite to Leonardo’s, with the sun starting to go low behind him, casting him in a strange and almost unnatural light. It wasn’t such a far jump, really, and if he did fall, he would not die unless he landed on his head. “Just jump! I’m here, I’ll catch you,” Ezio called.  _ Feel _ , he said.  _ Don’t think. It’s a leap of faith.  _

 

Leonardo took some steps back, charged — and flew. For a moment in time, frozen, a moment that continued on forever and was at the same time all too short… he was weightless. He had never felt anything like it. 

 

_ Feel.  _ He was right to trust Ezio — his tesoro caught him as he landed and enveloped him in his arms before he could lose his balance.  _ Don’t think.  _ His heart was beating fast, at a pace with the racing he had felt when he kissed Ezio that second time. He was light headed, for too many reasons to count.  _ Feel.  _ And Ezio stepped back and grinned at him, wide, warm, the sun behind him making the wild strands of his hair around his head glow like a halo. He could have been a saint, he could have been a god; Apollo plucked from the heavens. 

 

_ It’s a leap of faith.   _ Leonardo felt himself become a believer. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” Ezio teased him. “A natural, I don’t think you would have even lost your balance if I had been able to resist catching you.”

 

“You flatter me,” Leonardo grinned right back. The weightlessness hadn’t left him. “Don’t let it get to my head or I shall grow too cocky and fall to my death like a poor man’s Icarus.”

 

Ezio let out soft huff of laughter. He was always beautiful, but when so carefree it was so overwhelming that Leonardo could never hope to catch it on paper (not that he hadn’t tried. Ezio had only seen but a few of the sketches of him Leonardo had). He hoped that age would not weary him and make him grow dour. Not that Leonardo wished he should stay young forever. No, he only wished that he would never stop being in love with life. 

“Love, you’re not a poor man’s anything,” Ezio said, pulling him close to his side once more, only briefly. “And if anything,  _ you’re _ Daedalus.”

 

Leonardo took it for the compliment that it was. Ezio probably didn’t know about the aided bestiality part of the myth. “I hope you don’t mean to imply that  _ you’re  _ Icarus here.”

 

“Oh no, I don’t feel close to  _ any  _ Greek, really,” Ezio said. “Never mind all that, though, myths were never my strong suit. I prefer only having to remember one God. See that?” He pointed and Leonardo followed its direction to land upon a small church — the church closest to both their homes, in fact. He felt a sense of trepidation build in his chest. 

 

“I do.”

 

“We’re going to climb that,” Ezio declared. “We’ll go slowly just so you can get a feel of it, but it shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

 

His mouth had never been drier. “You are joking,” he said. “Surely.” Surely he couldn’t be overestimating his skills  _ that  _ much. Sure, it wasn’t a large church compared to most, and it had enough places to grab that it would be easier than scaling a plain wall… And he was considering it. Good  _ God  _ was there no end to Ezio’s influence over him? 

 

“Afraid not,” Ezio said, taking his hand. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. If you truly can’t do it, then we stop, and that’s that. You just have to promise me that you’ll  _ try _ .”  _ It’s a leap of faith.  _

 

He let all the air in his lungs out in one sharp exhale. “Fine. Alright, let’s do it. Let’s go.”

 

The delight that overcame Ezio’s features made it well worth it. The exuberant joy was nothing short of infectious, and he almost vibrated in place with the thrumming of his blood in his veins, made clear by him running so hot under Leonardo’s fingers. Ezio kissed him, grinning still, then took off with a  _  Come on!  _ that set Leonardo in motion without him even thinking of it first. ( _ Feel _ ) He  _ felt.  _

 

He ran, leapt, then at every major gap between buildings, really  _ jumped _ . Ezio, always a step ahead, caught him every time, until, emboldened by the approaching silhouette of the church, Leonardo pushed to run at Ezio’s side. Running wasn’t ever a good time to talk, and any noise other than a gasp would have caused Leonardo to fall back. Still, when Ezio whipped his head to the side and saw Leonardo there, he laughed. It was still not as loud as it would usually be due to the exertion, the wind, the open air, and it was still one of the sweetest sounds he had ever heard for the triumph that came with it. At the next jump, Leonardo didn’t hesitate; he grabbed Ezio’s hand and flew. 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

When they finally reached the church, Ezio had enough mercy to let him collapse for a bit and catch his breath. He wasn’t untrained by any means, but it had been ages since he’d had a run like that, and it was different up high where there was no cover for the elements ripping at your exposed skin and stinging your eyes. God, Ezio had run like that in the  _ rain.  _ He truly ran like that most days? No  _ wonder  _ his abdomen was like that of a marble sculpture. Maybe he should try sculpting again, carve him out as Apollo on earth. Ezio would likely prefer to be a satyr, grinning and coy and in the middle of debauchery. That was not all he was, though, Leonardo only had to make him see it. 

 

He rested his hands against his knees and breathed, eyes closed, until Ezio laid a warm (warm, always warm, how was he  _ always  _ warm?) on his upper back. “You alright?”

 

Leonardo met his eyes and the care he saw there made lightning shoot through his body. “Yes, I just needed — a moment.” He straightened out. “It’s been a while since I’ve run so far. I’m more used to heavy lifting than sprinting, I’m afraid.” Not that you would know, looking at the two of them; Ezio’s shoulders were noticeably broader. It was incredible to think all that came from climbing. 

 

“Really? You’re holding up well then,” Ezio said. “Then again I should expect you to be good at everything you do by now.”

 

He wheezed out a short laugh. “You should wait with saying such things until I’ve survived this church,” he gestured to the building in front of them, “or you’ll feel foolish when I fall.”

 

“You won’t,” Ezio said. “I promise.”

 

_ Faith.  _ Of course — there was no other way this could end, but with them both at the top. He had already fallen for Ezio, he wasn’t going to do it again so soon. 

 

Climbing wasn’t as bad as he had feared. His fingers were already callused, or he might have felt differently, and what Ezio didn’t know was that he had increased his time and effort spent increasing his strength after their first climb, just in case he invited him along again. It was paying off now, the “warm up” of before had loosened his muscles and he had an easier time pulling himself up. That wasn’t to say that it was  _ easy _ , only that it wasn’t nightmarish. He kept his focus on his feet and hands, where he should put his weight, which stone to use as leverage next. Not until he was up at the top, with Ezio helping him pull himself all the way and then putting his arm across his shoulders as a steady presence, did he look  _ down.  _

 

“Oh,” he said, in the moment lacking for words. It was truly twilight now, the sky painted in reds, golds, purple and dark blue, the light making the brick tiles of the Firenze skyline glow like bronze. And what a  _ skyline _ , he had never seen it from so high, and to think that this church, compared to others in the city, was not so high at all! The people were so small and the details near invisible, it was a sea of reds and light beiges and earthy tones that from the ground looked so steady and from above seemed like something you could sweep away with one decisive flick of the wrist.  His curt, his home, dressed in a decorative shroud of light and red colours that hid the street level imperfections. He wished he had brought his sketch pad — he wished he had brought his  _ oils  _ and easel. Standing up high with a flying bird’s view of his town, he fell in love with it all over again. 

 

The wind whipped at his hair and clothes and clawed at his skin with its cold, and he didn’t mind; he only noticed the cool in contrast to the hot breath of Ezio’s mouth by his ear. 

 

“Speechless, huh?” He said. “I was the same when I first climbed this high. I felt like I was on top of the world, and even though I’d run out of tower I felt that there was no way to go but up. I think I just screamed  _ ‘wohooo _ ’! and made all the little people down there look up for once.”

 

Leonardo pictured walking on the street below and suddenly hearing a triumphant scream from above and couldn’t begin to imagine what his reaction would be other than to question his sanity. “You won a battle against nature, you climbed what was never meant to be climbed, and when you got up you got to see this,” he gestured to the city before them. “Of course your first reaction was to let the whole world know, everyone from the people below to the birds flying overhead.” 

 

“And yours to keep it all in and try to make sense of it,” Ezio said, amused, causing Leonardo’s heart to throb. Never had someone gotten to know him so well, and it terrified and thrilled him both. He turned to look at him, take in the windswept hair and fringe that never stayed still, the slight flush in his cheeks from the wind (Ezio didn’t blush, he had noticed, not because he wasn’t embarrassed but because his complexion and him naturally running hot made it so it never showed. It was visible in other ways, in the ducking of his head, lack of laughter and self soothing movies he didn’t seem to notice himself) and Ezio met his gaze head on. Of course, he had already been looking at him while Leonardo looked at the sights. 

 

“And to desire to paint it,” he said, “It’s a shame bringing an easel up here would be too difficult.”

 

“We’ll manage, I’m sure of it,” Ezio said. 

 

“If we can get me down, that is,” he said ruefully. He’d loathe to leave the space, though he knew he had too and that they best do it before too long; they had not much time before the sun would set and he did not fancy his chances of climbing down in the dark. 

 

“Oh,  _ that’s _ easy,” Ezio said. “We just jump.” 

 

Leonardo looked him in the eye and blinked, his whole body otherwise perfectly still.

 

He couldn’t — surely he had to be a joke, Ezio made jokes as easy and quick as breathing, he was just making fun — he couldn’t mean that they should — 

 

“No, seriously!” He said. “I do it all the time. Fastest and easiest way down. You just dive, like you would into a body of water and turn so you land on your back. Just aim for the haystack and you’ll be fine, me and Federico have done this so many times.”

 

If he was acting, he was unnervingly good at it, because Leonardo could have sworn he was serious. He leaned over and looked down and, sure enough, there was a small wagon filled with a great big stack of hay. As if that would be enough to break anyone’s fall.

 

“Jump from here—Ezio are you mad? That hay is  _ not  _ enough to stop  _ anyone  _ from getting seriously injured. I can’t jump from here!” He exclaimed, tone calmer than the all out shouting the proposition deserved, but still a lot higher and more frantic than usual.  “I’d die!”

 

Ezio, the madman, laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. He had to be taking the piss. “What, do you have plans on living forever? We’ll all die someday!”

 

He spluttered. “Not forever, maybe, but at least not for another twenty years! I’d rather not die falling of a church!”

 

“Well if you do then at least they won’t have to carry you far.”

 

He was serious. He was actually serious. “It’s not funny!”

 

“You don’t have to laugh, then. You just have to watch this!” Then, before Leonardo could stop him, he stepped forward and jumped off the church. He spread his arms straight out to the sides with his legs held together, like a lunatic Jesus Christ on the cross facing his own death then fell. Leonardo shouted, not a word, not a name, just an ugly, human sound of fear and shock, involuntarily torn from his throat by pure instinct. He rushed to the edge to see what he would not wish anyone had to see, and almost fell off himself as he did so, only catching himself by falling to his knees and gripping the edge with both hands in the last second. And he watched the back of Ezio grow smaller, in a fall that slowed down in his mind from the actual speed of it. It was almost as if he was suspended in the air, only very gradually getting closer to the ground, and Leonardo was screaming, and could do nothing but watch. 

 

Then Ezio turned over mid fall, head tilted first and his body following, still perfectly formed like a cross, and he was too far down for Leonardo to see his face, but he knew that Ezio could look up and see him, and regretted that the last thing he would see would be his fear.  Then, at last he landed on his back in a spray of hay. Leonardo waited to hear a crack, a sickening crunch of broken bone and wood, but none came, only a soft thump and the woom of the spray of hay. He waited for blood to come spilling from the pile and drip from the wagon onto the cobblestone below, but none came. Instead, the pile rustled, moved properly, then Ezio went and popped his fucking head out, grinning wide and looking so god damned proud of himself the both the greek and roman pantheon and God would all strike him down at once in a combined effort to extinguish his hubris. 

 

Leonardo was, naturally, thankful that he was alive, though he had never experienced gratitude in such a way before. In a way where he was so relieved that he thought he might pass out as his vision blurred and his lungs were constricted, with his stomach doing twists and turns and his heart up in his throat. He was also furious. The sort of anger that was so intense and burning to the touch that he didn’t feel warm, only cold, more biting than the whipping wind.

“ _ YOU IDIOT _ !” He yelled. Idiot, a word which he had never truly thought applied to Ezio, not even in the beginning, and a word he hesitated to use for anyone. This act, though, this sheer act of stupidity and stupid, stupid daredevil nonsense act, made him only regret the use of it somewhat. He couldn’t even stop the myriad of curses that fell out of his mouth after that, though most were more directed at the universe and its forces than Ezio himself. That was not to say that many were not about Ezio, as his recklessness and the fact that he could easily have  _ died _ were enough to make him fear and rage and want to curl up into a ball in a corner and bawl. 

 

He kept the curses coming (now mostly aimed at himself) as he began to climb back down the tower, much faster than he had ever climbed or hoped to climb before, with all uncertainty temporarily forgotten as he was driven by nothing but the desire to hug Ezio tight and never let go, and also maybe kill him his damn self, so that he didn’t die risk his life in such a way again, so that Leonardo didn’t have to fear for his life for something so  _ stupid  _ again. Because there was no way he’d survive such a jump twice, no matter what his claims were, what Ezio had done shouldn’t be possible. 

 

This way of climbing was, maybe, not the smartest thing ever. Because though he was more confident climbing now, he also wasn’t thinking. So, once he got down to the main building and was about to climb down from the tiled roof, he slipped. And fell. Because of course he did, because of course Ezio, defier all known laws about what is and isn’t possible, would survive jumping from a tower and Leonardo would die by breaking his neck falling off a roof. Of course he would. 

 

Of course he didn’t, though, because he else would catch him but Ezio?

 

He was sure he blacked out as he fell, the sheer irony of it and the emotional overload doing too much of a number on his poor brain, and the next thing he was really aware of was that he was held in a not so elegant bridal carry, safe in Ezio’s strong, dumb arms. Ezio, who was beaming down at him, and also radiating smugness.

 

“Don’t you go around falling,” he said, continuing to radiate that insufferable smugness, “You could die!” Of all the things to joke about!

 

He cursed his pale complexion, that he was now sure made the blood rushing to his face all the more obvious. Of course Ezio hadn’t meant to scare him, and didn’t think too much of what it had done to Leonardo, to think he was dying, even if only for a minute at most. It had been the longest minute in his life, while Ezio had just been performing, like he often was. Leonardo would not let him realise how terrified and angry he had been; if he realised what Leonardo had felt, Ezio was sure to fall into a pitch black hole of despair, the way he usually did when he found out he had hurt someone without meaning to. Not that he had done it many times, only that he had done it enough and severely enough that Leonardo knew what would happen. Leonardo would — forget it, since there was nothing to forgive in the first place.

 

“I’ll just have to keep you around to catch me, then,” Leonardo sniffed, just to be contrite, really. And Ezio—did not blush, since that didn’t show on him. Instead he avoided Leonardo’s eyes, which was difficult to do when the man in question was in your arms, and pursed his lips inwards as he fought back a smile and shifted his weight between each leg on and off. 

 

“You can let me down now,” Leonardo said, to show mercy.

 

There was that smug look back in action. “Can I?” 

 

Yes, he thought to himself, before I give into the urge to kiss you right here before a house of God, and anyone who might walk past. 

 

“Unless you want to carry me home,” he said. “Though that might raise some questions from anyone who spots us.”

 

Ezio grinned — deviously. Oh no, he had a different idea. “Ezio, no,” he said when Ezio began walking, still holding him like a damsel. 

 

“Nothing to see here,” Ezio said with fake cavalier, “Just a friend carrying another drunk friend home, nothing suspicious about that.”

 

“Micio I’m almost the same weight as you, you’re going to drop me.”

 

“Ye of little faith!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you might be able to tell, leo is VERY insecure in this relationship. it's a work in progress for him, though. he went from thinking "ezio could never love me" to "ezio won't love me forever and i'll never love again even when he doesn't reciprocate". the next step is "we love each other. that may or may not be permanent and that's okay, it doesn't mean we love each other any less right now". also remember that guy in the first assassin's creed guy who did a leap of faith and broke his leg? lmao. the unsung hero of AC. altaïr who.
> 
> there was a brothel in pompeii where they had a wall painting in the entrance that displayed different sex acts, all numbered, so that you could look them over and go "uhh yeah i'll have a number IV thanks."  
> "dude you always pick that why won't you try something new" "shut up marcus just focus on your own fuck and stop talking shit about mine" "you're so lame. i'm doing a number VII" "whatever man, it won't be me crying tomorrow when my quads burn like the hearth in Vesta from that weird ass angled sex"


	27. thursday: part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe they'll show mercy if I look pathetic, you know?"
> 
> the dreaded thursday is here, and Ezio is ready to escape the country and assume a new identity just to avoid it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo.... so exams, christmas, the new years and studying happened. in the first week after i last published a chapter i wrote multiple thousands of words. none of which was chapter 27 and all of which was the FALLOUT of the dinner. the actual dinner has given me writer's block for days so i decided to just put the first part here since it's a bit longer than the average chapter length and you guys have waited long enough. this is a lot of tension and the word schematics over and over bc "blueprints" isn't a thing yet. 
> 
> i haven't even read through this chapter, so there are bound to be mistakes, but if i actually reread it i would just rewrite it and you would have to wait another month so apologies in advance.

In his head, Ezio was making his father more evil than he could ever be. He knew, rationally, that the images of the night’s dinner were in various ways the worst possible outcomes — far fetched, wildly out of character and based more on his own fears than any rational judgement on his part. He knew that the most likely scenario was that little to nothing bad would happen. Snide words might be passed, maybe even some subdued hostilities and, the most likely outcome of all: a really awkward dinner filled with stilted small talk, strange silences and false smiles. 

 

Still, in his head, it felt as if the closer he got to Leonardo’s arrival in their home, the closer his family and the house they lived in was to exploding. As if Leonardo would arrive and Ezio would look at him the wrong way for less than a second and the whole villa would spontaneously combust. During the many hours he tried and failed to sleep the night before his head concocted all sorts of scenes. Of his father disowning him, threatening Leonardo or both of them, reporting them to the authorities, various ways he would verbally tear them both to shreds, the humiliation he would put Leonardo through; needless to say he hadn’t had a restful night. 

 

Before he had left Leonardo to go home, he had kissed him sweetly and said “Remember, I’ll be with you.” Ezio tried to think of that. He tried to focus on all the good things this relationship brought, rather than the possible negatives, and on the many bright memories. While it was enough to make him willing to fight for the two of them… it wasn’t enough to make him feel wholly secure. Federico’s support would be monumental, as it wouldn’t mean Ezio alone was fighting to defend Leonardo — he would have another fighter by his side. Maybe even Claudia, provided she didn’t break her promise and still found their father to be going too far. His mother was more tricky, as she liked Leonardo, but also didn’t like to be seen openly opposing her husband’s actions. 

 

So Ezio did have some support, and maybe even a lot of it. Still, his stomach would not settle, and still his skin continued to itch. Throughout the day his head began to pound and it increased in volume, more and more until it made him dizzy, irritable and have difficulty focusing. Willow bark did a little to ease it all, as did water. Neither helped  _ enough _ . 

 

_ Leonardo _ , he would think at random intervals. Leonardo, I hope you’re alright. Leonardo, I hope you don’t feel as terrible as I do. Leonardo, may he love you. He hoped, desperately, a prayer in the night.  _ May we make it through this.  _ While he in the next breath would tell himself to calm down, it’s a fucking  _ dinner,  _ you’re being dramatic.  _ May we live through it _ . Worse comes to worse we’ll just drink wine and make things less awkward that way.  _ We’ll hang.  _ We’ll have stiff shoulders from being too pent up to relax, is all. We’ll live.  _ May we live. _ We will. 

 

He lay in bed longer than everyone else, which was funny since he didn’t sleep, and he waited until someone knocked on the door to rise his stiff and aching (with what?  _ why? _ ) body from his bed and answer it.

 

“You look like shit,” Federico said.

 

“Finally, we look alike. What is it?”

 

Federico refused to wait to be invited in, instead forcing himself past the door and into his room. “Do I need an agenda to check that my little brother is alright?” He invited himself to take a seat as well, and the chair’s legs screeched against the wooden floor as he dragged the chair to face the room instead of the desk. 

 

“Usually.” A beat. “I’m not hungover.”

 

Federico quirked a brow. “Did I say you were?”

 

Damn. “Not in so many words, no.”

 

“Ezio Auditore has developed the ability to read minds,” his brother deadpanned. “All hope is lost.”

 

Ezio let out a snort and crossed his arms, leaning his weight on his left foot. Best to wait for Federico to explain himself unprompted, or they would end up spending hours saying nothing of use and never get to the point. 

 

Federico narrowed his eyes, seemingly noticing what Ezio was doing. He sighed, rubbing at his left eye. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing. If you’re alright or — need anything, I don’t know.”

 

A warm flash of… something, something that was bad, burst out from Ezio’s chest and spread throughout his body. He refused to call it fondness, that was a word reserved for people that didn’t have “tease Ezio” listed as one of their hobbies. “I’m fine.”

 

Federico looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Try again.”

 

“I’m  _ fine. _ ”

 

“You look like you haven’t slept in  _ days _ ,” his brother snapped. “You look like shit, you’re stressed as hell, you’re hiding a man shaped secret from the rest of our family and tonight you’re going to have to pretend that the man sitting across from you is just a  _ buddy _ and not leap to his defence every time someone breathes condescendingly. You are  _ not fine. _ ”

 

What the fuck, what the hell made Federico decide that it was alright to simply assume everything going on with him and then present that as fact? Not to mention disregarding Ezio’s word. If he wasn’t going to believe Ezio, why bother asking? “Speaking of mind readers,” he scoffed. “I’ll be fine when all this is over and we can go back to a time when papà didn’t give a shit about what I do.”

 

“I’ll just keep an eye out for raining pigs then, won’t I?” Federico said wryly. “Maybe check in with Satan and see if he’s gotten any snow lately. I’m sorry to say it Ezio, but I think this may just be the beginning of papà’s invasiveness.”

 

Ezio groaned. “God, don’t say it,” he whined, and went to lean against his bedpost, arms crossed. If he was going to have a hellish conversation he at least wanted to not stand upright during it. “Why does he even care now? He hasn’t before, not until, you know — Vespucci, I guess.”

 

“Exactly that,” Federico said, “He hasn’t cared, realised that was a mistake, and now he’s trying to change it.”

 

“And he’s being a bastard about it.”

 

His brother snorted a laugh. “He doesn’t know how to do it any other way.”

 

Ezio laughed. It wasn’t completely humourless, though it was a near thing. “Whatever, I know he won’t actually do much to me. It’s just—”

 

“Leonardo,” Federico finished for him. “Yeah. I’m not gonna tell you that you don’t have reason to worry, but I think that if anyone could completely disarm our father… It’s Leonardo. He’s too damn charming. He made Claudia lose her claws. Our  _ mother _ , even. Who does that? It’s creepy, really.”

 

His laugh then was much more genuine. Federico was right in that; he should put his trust in Leonardo. He had done it so far, to miraculous effect. He might as well take his own advice he’d given Leonardo — and have faith. 

 

* * *

 

 

His father kept trying to engage him in conversation throughout the day, and Ezio kept managing to escape before he could be trapped. It must not have been terribly important, or no force on earth could have stopped Giovanni while Ezio was in their home. It only meant though, that Ezio had even less of an interest in hearing it. He couldn’t look at him without fearing that he would spill his guts at the first suspicious glance, and ruin everything before the night had even gotten close to starting. He usually had complete face in his mask, and now it felt riddled with cracks wide enough to peek through. 

 

His sister didn’t say anything, only shooting him semi-sympathetic glances and some hesitant (perhaps slightly suspicious as well?) looks. She was much more savvy in all things Ezio than their father, he had no doubt that she could see how nauseated and on edge he was. 

 

His mother… was practically invisible, since she was busy doing the actual work of running the household like a slave driver, like she always was when they would have company, no matter how many guests they were expecting or how important they were. Petruccio, similarly, was completely locked in. Not out of sickness, Ezio was told, but simply because he was tired and wanted to read. It was honestly a relief, he still didn’t have the heart required to lie to Petruccio, and his little brother could instantly tell when something was wrong. For such a sheltered and undersocialized boy, he was sharp. 

 

Ezio couldn’t eat his lunch. Not that he ever ate much during the day, since their family was, though not aristocratic,  _ high up  _ enough to maintain the tradition of making dinner a long, complicated, and definitely filling ordeal. Still, he about managed a couple of grapes before it wanted to come back up. 

 

Lunch, being not dinner and therefore not important, had never been as important to have together as dinner. It meant that Federico and Ezio, who shared lesson space and most actual lessons, usually ended up being the only ones having it at the same time. It meant the  _ very  _ obvious sign of how shitty he felt would continue to go unnoticed by the rest of their family. On the flipside, it meant Federico was free to nag him and wear his little  _ oh look at me I’m trying to imitate our father to look important and make you listen whoop de doo I’m so smart _ look. 

 

“You think being dizzy is going to help you?” Federico deadpanned from across the table.

 

“You’re right,” Ezio said. “Maybe if I vomit I can get a free pass from attending the shit show.”

 

Federico, of course, saw right through his bullshit attempt at levity, and would have none of it. “And leave Leonardo to the wolves?”

 

His stomach flipped again. Yeah, not likely. “He’s a big boy. Older than you, even.”

 

“And smarter too, I bet. What do you think he would tell you, were he here now?”

 

Ezio narrowed his eyes, kept his silence, and plucked another grape. His canines pierced the taut skin and made the top sweet flavour burst in his tongue, and he fought a grimace. Still, he took another. 

 

Federico looked far too smug. Bastard. 

 

He continued to keep an eye on him during their afternoon lessons. He said nothing, not that he needed to. When Ezio would drift off, brows pinched and tension in his shoulders building, Federico would quietly pelt him with small rolled up balls of paper, aiming between his eyes. As distractions went, it was annoying as shit, and incredibly effective. Their tutor caught Federico doing it and chastised him for it, and he only nodded, apologised, then continued doing it. Ezio felt that he could do with a little less moral support. 

 

* * *

 

 

Before the time came, Ezio settled in to wait in their inner yard with the entrance in view. He was sat at one of their benches along the walls, with a book he wasn’t reading in hand, and bounced his legs enough to make the  _ click click click  _ sound of his heel against stone sound through the yard. Maybe settling in to wait an hour before Leonardo could reasonably arrive at the earliest was a bit much — he couldn’t find the energy to give one single solitary damn. 

 

His father passed by him after half an hour, coming out of his office and heading towards the part of the house where the dining room was. The second Ezio saw the door of his office begin to open, his leg stilled and he fixed his eyes firmly on the book. He didn’t even know what he was reading. Some collection of letters or other, which he’d always preferred to long works of prose. Tacitus was the  _ worst.  _

 

“Ezio,” his father said, and he looked up to meet his eyes, stomach turning to ice. But it was only meant as a greeting, as his steps did not falter. 

 

“Father,” he said, taking pride in that his voice did not waver. Still he did not let his shoulders fall until the steps were out of hearing range entirely.  _ Ridiculous _ . His whole life he had gone without fearing his father, only to now shudder every time they were in the same room. Then again, he hadn’t carried such a secret before. He feared his father’s disappointment then, rather than his anger as he did now. He looked up to the sky; the sun had not moved. Leonardo would not arrive for another half hour. It was too soon, and not soon enough. He couldn’t remember how that half hour passed— it went by too slowly and too quickly, and all of it was spent within his own head. Then, before Leonardo could arrive at a fashionable time, he got up and went to wait in the parlour, giving up all pretence of reading and laying the book down on the nearest table. This was were his siblings, save Petruccio, has settled in to wait. His mother would be lighting fires under their servants, and father — he didn’t know. 

 

“Hey,” he said. 

 

“You look terrible,” Claudia said. Federico snorted. 

 

“You’re only noticing it now?”

 

“I thought he would have done something about it by now.”

 

That was reasonable. It was what he  _ ought  _ to have done, instead of sweating up a cold storm and thumbing at his trousers until they were smudged and unkempt. “I look how I feel,” he said. “Maybe they’ll show mercy if I look pathetic, you know?” He didn’t have to say who  _ they  _ were.

 

“I’d say it accomplishes the opposite,” Claudia said. “You are the weakest of the herd, which makes for easy picking.”

 

“There’s so much love in this house, I’ve no idea what I’d have to be nervous about,” he drawled, landing on a chair ungracefully enough for it to skid back an inch, the legs screeching against the wood. 

 

“Woe is you,” Claudia said wryly. Perhaps inspired by Ezio’s asking for mercy, she changed the subject. “Is he the type to be late?”

 

“Generally?” Ezio asked. “Yes. For this? I have no idea. If I have to guess, then no. He wants to make a good impression.”

 

Claudia furrowed her brows. “Father is the only one of us he doesn’t know.”

 

“And what do you call Petruccio,” Federico said, “Floor decoration? A particularly life like sculpture?”

 

“I’d call him  _ not the one he needs to impress _ ,” she retorted. “It would help, certainly, but we all know Petruccio never really gets a say.” Ezio was about to protest: much was done and decided in their family for the benefit of Petruccio. If their mother could decide, he would be wrapped with down stuffed cloths every second he was out of bed, and never to be told anything at all since it might possibly upset him. Before he protested, he stopped to think — Petruccio was never the one who made decisions surrounding himself, let alone the rest of them. The times he tried, by wanting to sneak out, disobeying enforced bed rest and most notably his decision to become a vegetarian, were greatly opposed. Ezio let his mouth click shut.

 

“I suppose,” Federico allowed. “Still, it would be naive to say that our parents don’t care who he likes. I would say his liking someone does carry weight. He is much like a dog in that his instincts are excellent, he intrinsically knows if someone is a good person or not. Not to mention, if Petruccio is happy,  so is mother.”

 

“Unless he’s seen as a bad influence,” Ezio added, though unhappy about it. It didn’t much matter what any of them thought, if Leonardo was a  _ bad influence.  _ It didn’t matter if Ezio and Federico were both adults, the same terms would apply to them. 

 

No one, however, was given the opportunity to speak about it further; the door to the salon from the dining room was opened to reveal Maria (the maid), looking uncharacteristically chipper and still flushed. She curtsied, head bowed, to tell them “Di Ser Piero has arrived.” Ezio straightened up to attention so quickly that the joints of his spine popped. “He and Signori Auditore are in the courtyard.”

 

Ezio jumped up from his seat, while his siblings decided to get up normally. “Thanks, Maria,” he said, and was confused by her brief second of squinting before he remembered that she hadn’t told him what her name was. Ah, well. 

 

“You may go,” Claudia told her, and she curtsied once more before she left. “Federico, you’re first.”

 

“By a split second,” he said. “Ezio, you’re second. Even though you aren’t, at least  _ act  _ like you’re actually fine. Please.”

 

Easier said than done. “I’m fine.”

 

Claudia made a noise of disgust. “You’re not a very skilled liar, Ezio.” Her time was admonishing, even while there was something in it, coupled with the softness of her eyes that spoke of bemusement. And for a split second, he was struck by the thought,  _ does she know? _

 

It was with that whirling in his head that he moved forward, out into the courtyard and to —  _ Leonardo.  _

 

Leonardo had pulled out the stops without making it obvious. His hair was clean and brushed, so fine and deeply blonde in hue that it was like a golden picture frame around his face and Ezio knew that if he leaned forward to drag his fingers through it he would meet no resistance, and that it would feel as fine as silk. He was wearing a beret, red to match his doublet, with a single though long, elegant plume. His doublet was one he rarely wore, so as not to risk staining it, and had been brushed with clear care. His boots were polished, and the flecks of green that had landed on the left toe the week before was only visible if you looked for it. As finely dressed as he was, in a way that would garner no objection from Ezio’s parents, he couldn’t help but notice… red was never a colour he wore to things he looked forward to. He loved pink the most, of course, then purple, green, gold, even blue. He had said red suited Ezio more than him. He thought it drained him, made him look pale; which was rather the point for most. Of course Leonardo would defy that convention as well.

 

( _ “Why do you wear it then? Why keep it so clean?” _

 

_ “It is incredibly fashionable, in a way that is considered respectable. Even while I may not favour it, I cannot deny that it paints a very — refined picture. I wear it around people I do not know very well, who I need to find me respectable.” _

 

_ “I get it. It’s your interview-outfit.” _

 

_ “I— yes. Exactly that.” _

 

_ “You do look amazing in it though.” _

 

_ “Thank you, my friend. Though I dare say red looks much, much better on you.” _

 

_ “Aw, stop. You’re making me blush.”) _

 

It was with half a mind he noticed the packing he had brought, the tubes meant to carry rolled up schematics and suchlike — he saw them and paid them no mind, overcome instead with the overwhelming urge to  _ go _ ,  _ go to him _ , embrace him, hold him close and not let go. Mess up that beautiful hair, take off the stifling reds, spill paint on his shoes, make him laugh until his face was all red, then kiss him to have that laugh for himself. 

 

It was unbearable, that urge. He clenched his hands to stifle the itch, clenched his jaw to stop himself from calling him, skid his boot forward half a step and stopped with nothing but iron-forged will. There was no noise but for the ringing in his ears, the beating of his own pulse, and so he heard nothing of what Leonardo and his parents exchanged, nothing of Federico introducing himself, nothing as his mother’s mouth moved while looking at him, nothing. Until Leonardo looked directly at him, smiling at him more politely than they had become accustomed to. It was the same smile that had greeted him the day he first took refuge in his workshop, and the days that followed it, until slowly, slowly, it had changed enough to be unrecognisable, and the fall they had both taken could not be reversed. 

 

“My friend,” he said, and Ezio wanted to scream.  _ Friend.  _ It was what they sometimes called each other still, for it was true. His closest, dearest friend. Only now, it felt like a bitter lie.  _ Friend _ , spoken because that was not all they were, and it was all they were permitted to be. Calling each other  _ friend _ was only a lie, Ezio realised, when it was said before people whose ignorance they depended on for their survival. Nothing but the glint of his eye, the slight folds to his skin by them, spoke of the softness of it. With his body language, tone and language he said  _ my friend _ , and to Ezio, it was all he wished to say but couldn’t. “A pleasure to meet you, like always.”

 

He reached forward a hand and Ezio stepped up to take it, a move he only pulled off as well as he did due to the ingrained instinct in him to do so, in the name of propriety. There was, he realised when they got so close, barely even a hint of the scent of oil paint. Instead, there was olive soap, and a hint of lavender. Ezio imagined Leonardo bathing fully submerged as to be able to rid himself of that smell, and then rubbing himself in with oil. An image he could only hold in his mind for less than a second before he banished it, lest he throw Leonardo over his shoulder like a sack of hay to take him up to his room, declaring that they not be disturbed for at least four hours so he could properly ravage and be ravaged by him. 

 

His grip was warm, warmer than usual. Yet no hint of it showed on his face. “Come now,” Ezio grinned, “No need to lie in front of my parents.”  **_Every_ ** _ need to lie in front of his parents.  _ All to soon they had to let go, and Ezio wanted to scream. For just a bit, he saw Leonardo’s hand stretch at his side, the one he had clasped, as if he too was gripped by the phantom of their touch. 

 

“My apologies,” Leonardo said, turned to his parents, before turning back to Ezio, “Of course, I must admit that I am more pleased today than usual, as I not only get to spend time with you, but with the two great minds that have raised you.” Back to his parents — his mother, who was looking flattered and expertly hiding it, and his father who appeared to be curious, “Considering your son’s character, I can safely say that the people who have reared him have to be phenomenal as well. Signora Auditore, in your case I hope you pardon my saying so, I already know it to be true.” His mother wasn’t even trying to hide being flattered now, though she still did so with significantly more grace than most. “Signore, I have no doubt that it shall promise to be equally true in your case.”

 

His father raised a brow and though his smile was neutral it had not turned unkind. “Coming from you that is indeed high praise, from what I have been told of  _ your  _ mind.”

 

“I hope to live up to your expectations,” Leonardo said. 

 

“If messere has brought the schematics I requested of him, then I am certain he shall soon have a chance to prove it,” Claudia interjected. 

 

“Ah!” Leonardo patted his containers. “I have them right here, as requested.”

 

“And here I was nearly afraid to ask,” Ezio’s father said. It must have taken a not inconsiderable amount of strength not to wonder why the fuck Claudia had done that, and when the hell she had done it. “I admit, my curiosity is piqued. Shall we perhaps move out of the courtyard and into the dining room? Dinner is not yet ready, so in the meanwhile it will provide us with ample enough space and lighting to examine your works. Since I’m sure none here can be persuaded not to be present for it, even while it would let us fit into my office,” he said, looking directly at his children. 

 

“Especially not since I had Petruccio in mind when I asked messere,” Claudia said pointedly. 

 

“An excellent suggestion. If we go ahead and prepare, he will join us shortly. My lady,” he turned to Ezio’s mother, who bowed her head with care. 

 

“I shall fetch him. Leonardo, make yourself at home. It has been too long since I had the opportunity to witness you in action.”

 

Leonardo made a shallow, yet elegant, bow. “And too long since I had the opportunity to hear your insight.”

 

The dining hall had indeed been lit up for the occasion ahead of the dinner itself, with plenty of oil lamps bathing the room in a warm glow, causing the mostly red interior to look richly orange and light red, and the dark wood to appear golden brown. As Leonardo shrugged of his packages, Ezio set about to prepare some space by pulling away two chairs from the middle of the table, so that at least Leonardo and one person more at a time could lean over and look over the papers unhindered by the chairs’ tall backs. The servants had been so good as to add a delightful flower arrangement to the middle of it as decoration, which Ezio picked up and set up at the end of the long table. Just as he did so, Leonardo rolled a schematic out on the now clear space. Ezio grabbed two decorative miniature sculptures from their mantelpiece and put them on the opposite corners of the paper, which Leonardo had been trying to smooth out. Leonardo gave his usual thanks, with Ezio responding “thank  _ you _ ” in his equally usual fashion. 

 

He turned to encourage his family to step forward, and was surprised by their faces: his mother, carefully neutral with only her brows slightly raised so as to convey amusement; Federico, who looked like he had just rolled his eyes; and Claudia, who looked as thoroughly unimpressed as humanly possible.  _ Shit, what now?  _ He did not let his surprise show but for widening his grin and waving his arm in circular motions to make them move. “Come on, now! You won’t see anything from back there!”

 

“I’m afraid you’re overselling my work, my friend,” Leonardo told him, lips twisted in a sideways smile. 

 

“Nonsense,” said Maria, now close enough to bend over and see the drawing clearly. But, of course, for the gloom right at the table. “This is like nothing I have seen before. What is it?”

 

Leonardo’s cheeks reddened. “Ah, you flatter me, Madonna. Say, Ezio, where might we get some more—“

 

He was interrupted by Ezio lighting the candles that had already been placed on the table with being lit in advance. Now the details on the paper couldn’t be clearer. “Ezio, you read my mind.”

 

“How ever did you survive before me?” He retorted. 

 

“With less beneficial lighting,” Leonardo quipped, then returned to Maria, to begin explaining his machine. He didn’t, Ezio supposed, need to look at him to know the mirth his quip has caused. He tuned out Leonardo’s explanation, having heard it before and in the moment seeing more necessity in watching his family. Maria appeared fascinated, as did Claudia, even though she had heard of that particular invention before. Federico, meanwhile, gestured for Ezio to back away a bit so that he could remove the chair on Leonardo’s right side to create her more room. Then, when he could clearly meet Ezio’s gaze, his lips formed silent words for him alone. It might have been  _ ‘your hot butter’  _ or  _ ‘you’re not supple’ _ . He didn’t know, he couldn’t read lips. Why Federico thought he could, he had no idea. He frowned and shrugged to communicate this; Federico only looked more frustrated. 

 

“Have you begun already?” 

 

Everyone turned to see Giovanni in the door, with Petruccio right behind him, downcast and shy rather than jubilant. Usually, he would be overjoyed to talk to any stranger at all… this was yet another point on the ‘all’s not right with Petruccio’ board. 

 

“I simply could not contain myself once the schematics were unfurled,” Maria said. Truthfully enough, while she was turned to her husband and son, she had not turned away from the table fully, and still rested a hand on the very edge of the paper. Ezio’s father seemed to notice this as well, though Ezio still couldn’t read his reaction well. 

 

“High praise,” his father said. He looked to Leonardo. “Di Ser Piero, allow me to introduce our youngest son, Petruccio.” A hand at Petruccio’s back made him move forward towards Leonardo. Ezio couldn’t tell if the hand had been pressing or if only a touch was needed to make Petruccio move. “Petruccio, this is Leonardo di Ser Piero. Say hello.”

 

Leonardo smiles kindly, kinder still than all his smiles before that evening and, to everyone’s surprise, went down on one knee so as to put himself more at Petruccio’s level. Giovanni simply kept still, Federico drew his head back, Claudia tilted hers and Maria raised her chin slightly. Ezio was barely surprised. He hadn’t seen Leonardo truly interact with children before, though he would say this was perfectly in character for Leonardo as he knew him. 

 

“Good evening, Petruccio,” Leonardo said. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you; Ezio speaks very highly of you.”

 

“Hello,” Petruccio finally said. His eyes flicked down to Leonardo’s doublet, then up to his face. “You’re less pink than I thought you would be.”

 

_ The fuck…?  _

 

Leonardo took it in stride; if he was confused, he did not show it. “Indeed? Rumours of my fondness for pink must precede me,” he said, amusement painting his tone. “I do prefer it to red, but red makes me look more respectable, you see. See, you’re wearing red and I find you quite respectable.”

 

Some shyness had ebbed away, as Petruccio dared a small smile. “Thank you. I prefer green.”

 

“An excellent choice. There’s nothing more soothing than a meadow or a good old fashioned tree. I ought to have guessed on green, you seem like the sort of person to enjoy a good tree. Did you make a guess as well? About my favourite colour, that is.”

 

“No, Ezio told me,” Petruccio declared, and Ezio was only more confused. No he hadn't. Had he?  _ When?  _

 

“Really? Has he told you I like science, too?” Petruccio nodded. “Fantastic, because your sister told me you do, too. I happen to have brought some schematics with me, of my inventions. Would you like to see them?”

 

Petruccio’s eyes widened in excitement and he blurted out a “ _ Yes _ ,” before remembering himself, looking up to ask their father, “May I?”

 

Giovanni held a smile for Petruccio, rather than a sigh. Of course he did, he was too smothered to give him much cause not to smile. “Go on, I admit to taking some interest in this myself.”

 

Leonardo stood up with…  _ some  _ grace and no grimace, and Petruccio ran over to the table. He was, fortunately, tall enough to not need a chair to see the drawings, even if he did have to stand on his tippy toes to peer closer at some details. 

 

Ezio hadn’t seen Leonardo interact with children before, not really. Still, naturally he was good at it. Naturally, he had made Petruccio’s perplexing mistrust melt away in no time at all, and the more he showed Petruccio, told him of his engineering and treated him with patience, respect and amicability, Petruccio’s eyes grew wider at a pace with his admiration. Leonardo would likely outdo all of them in a competition for Petruccio’s regard. Still, Ezio’s anxiety had barely lessened, stuck as he still was staring at his father — the back of him, now — and trying to gauge his thoughts. 

 

While lost in thought, Federico sidled up beside him. “Good on you,” he said quietly. “He’s the most popular family member and he’s not even an Auditore. You can rest easy.”

 

Ezio scoffed, as loud as he dared so that only Federico would notice. “Thanks, but I won’t cry hallelujah before we’ve even crossed the river.”

 

“I suppose that’s fair,” Federico sighed. Then, “I wonder what father’s thinking.”

 

“Don’t we all? It’s a hobby, at this point.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah the ending is abrupt, but it was the best place to cut since the tone is gonna shift :/ 
> 
> shout out to my mum for watching me mouth "you're not subtle" and guess what i was trying to say.


	28. thursday: part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the rest of the dinner occurs with scalding tea the like of which would make a maggie smith character go "oh dear", with a follow up scene worthy of jaskier_yells_"YOU — NEED A NAP!".gif

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop whoop it hasn't been three weeks this time!  
> again, sorry lads, i just got started with the new semester and my course this time is "work place and organisational psychology" which is uhhh a lot more demanding than antiquity was, potential-writing-time wise. which (antiquity) i passed with full marks by the by! go me. apart from that i also joined a choir bc a cute girl asked me to, i'm a lot more social, and i'm an official comrade, which also takes up free time. so yeah i can't promise weekly chapters anymore, but now that everything's calmed down a bit i'll get into the swing of things and try to guarantee an update bi-weekly. hope you don't mind! i love you guys! thanks to everyone who gave kudos, bookmarked, and commented during the wait :)

Time soon came to make the table ready to be set again, and Ezio’s family drew off to the side with his father standing with his siblings, and his mother having gone to do — something, she hadn’t really said anything before she disappeared. They had all, it seemed, silently agreed that it was best to let Leonardo put his schematics away himself and to not be underfoot. Which naturally meant that Ezio was right there beside him, carefully rolling the material up tight for Leonardo to put in the tubes. 

 

“I should have guessed you would be good with kids,” Ezio told him with a crooked smile. He didn’t whisper, since it would look strange. He spoke informally though he didn’t ask what he truly wanted to; if they were overheard, their conversation would not be misjudged. 

 

Leonardo’s eyes softening minisculey was all the answer he needed, all the same.  “You do insist I’m good with people,” he said. “Children are people — just smaller.”

 

“What a strange and controversial statement,” Ezio quipped, “Children, people? Perish the thought.”

 

They both maintained straight faces… for approximately three seconds, before they both had to smother down their giggling like gossiping teens. Ezio struggled not to laugh outright, until he looked up and saw his father watching them, still carefully blank. His laughter died. 

 

* * *

 

 

The few nerves Ezio had managed to smoothe were well and truly frazzled again after that, as he felt his father’s hawk eyes trail his and Leonardo’s every moment. This was a falsehood, as of course, as it was impossible for him to watch them so closely without it being noticed. Indeed, if he had any suspicions, he would be more likely to act as if nothing was amiss. Perhaps that was why his look at them both had shook Ezio so. Rare was it for his father to get angry rather than irritated and disappointed, and rarer still was it for him to risk it showing. The thought that he might be angry enough to let his act slip was more terrifying to Ezio than any immediate threat of death could be, as he had no idea what would come next, or what had provoked the response in the first place. 

Leonardo acted as if nothing was wrong; he spoke to each family member as if he was a part of the family, while still retaining his respectable distance in his manners. 

All the while Ezio waited for the show to drop. 

It was expected then, that it would drop when Claudia asked about the oil paints and what caused their odour (not a very polite question, but a valid one, and something that they were all curious to know) and Ezio, in his infinite wisdom, commented that “Spend half as long as I have around that studio of yours and you won’t even notice it anymore.”

 

“I distinctly remember you complaining about it every chance you would get those first weeks,” Leonardo said with good humour.

 

“Well worth it to see the results, I can imagine,” Claudia said. Leonardo inclined his head in a nod, hiding how much that pleased him to hear, no doubt. God bless Claudia.

 

“That much is true,” Ezio said, “I could spend hours just watching the progress. And have, even. Well worth killing my sense of smell.”

 

“What a marvel,” his father said, and a sense of foreboding curdled the air and made it feel thick enough to choke on, even while his tone was pleasant. “With how eagerly you always run from your lessons, I would not have expected you to be able to sit still inside for such long stretches of time.” What was he playing at? There was a hint there, definitely, suspicion aimed at… Ezio watching someone paint? There had to be more to it.

 

Well, he didn’t always sit still during his visits, especially not recently. Maybe kneeling to suck someone off technically didn’t count as sitting still? 

 

“That might have more to do with me enjoying time spent in a friend’s company more than enjoying latin grammar,” Ezio said. “Besides, it’s not as if all we do is watch paint dry.” There was a faint sound of choking on wine as Federico was clearly the only one who found that joke funny. Petruccio might have a contender for the position of favourite sibling. 

 

“Indeed. You appear quite practised at assisting di Ser Piero with his engineering.” 

 

Where did he get  _ that  _ from; watching Ezio fold and unfold schematics? A quick glance around found that everyone seemed as confused as he. 

 

“Ezio’s insights are most helpful,” Leonardo said, “As is his other assistance. He has an intelligent head on his shoulder, which appears to be a familial trait.” Ezio loved Leonardo quite dearly, though he wished he could reach over the table, grab his lapels and hiss  _ flattery will not save us now!  _

 

“And because of his education, as loathe as I am sure he is to admit it,” Giovanni replied. “Is that most of what you two do, then?”

 

Ezio’s stomach rolled, and Leonardo’s smile continued to grow faker. “Pardon?”

“Work,” Giovanni clarified, which did not clarify anything at all. “Since Ezio has told me your relationship is one of friendship, not work, I can’t help but wonder what sort of relationship it is that you share — where you would spend so little time in one another’s company outside your home, and so much on painting and engineering.”

 

As rude as the statement was (in fact his mother intervened, though not by doing more than to reproachfully say “ _ Giovanni” _ ) it made tension seep away in bits from Ezio’s body. He still did not fully understand what his father was on about, yet the pieces were beginning to come together and the picture they would paint would not be one of sodomy. Thank  _ God. _

 

Leonardo meanwhile, looked  _ politely _ murderous. Ezio hadn’t known such a thing was possible coming from a man, he had thought it an ability only acquired by clever and terrifying women. Ezio hoped it meant that he, too, could achieve it someday. 

 

“I very much enjoy our discussions,” Leonardo said. “However I know that some subjects, such as the church, and science in general that has not yet been officially approved, is best kept in private. Ergo, it is more sensible to keep them in the house, where we can not be overheard and our theoretical discussions be mistaken for heresy. Not to mention the fact that we can both become quite animated, and I would be loath to accidentally create a scene in a public space because of a discussion being misperceived as a fight.”

 

His father continued to not show a single emotion on his face. “That is what you do, then? Discuss?”

 

Just as he had begun to relax his stress levels reached new heights. Screw it, he would down a wine glass in one go, it wasn’t as if either of his parents would notice as distracted as they were being accusative and horrified respectively. 

 

“Mostly, yes,” Leonardo replied. His face had turned neutral skin to Giovanni’s, save for the fixed smile that looked more sarcastic than anything else. 

 

“Forgive me if I don’t truly believe you; I don’t doubt my son’s education, but I have never heard Ezio take any interest in debate.”

 

“Perhaps he would, if you were open to it.”

 

This time the wine-choking came from three fronts: Federico, Claudia and Ezio himself. Ezio’s heart was beating quick enough to break through his ribcage. If ever his father were to murder someone, now seemed to be the time. 

 

With the exception of the initial horrified snorts, it was silent enough to hear a pin drop. Petruccio, the poor soul, looked  _ frightened _ . 

 

Then, his father simply said, “Perhaps.” which made the evening go from redeemable to forever marked in calendars as a day of wincing regret. 

 

Silence stretched out again — until finally, his mother had enough of propriety herself and decided to break decorum by choosing a new topic of conversation. “Have you heard that the youngest Baldovinetti son has gotten engaged?” And after that, conversation was wholly genuinely polite and comfortably predictable. And everyone pretended not to notice how Leonardo and Giovanni neither looked at, nor spoke with each other, again.

 

-

 

When dinner was over, the relief was palpable in the air. Dishes were cleared and everyone stood, grateful to stretch their legs. The siblings congregated close together, with Leonardo naturally falling in with them, while their parents were stood more to the side, for a conversation that looked calm enough, but none of the children were privy to.

 

 It also meant that it was time for Petruccio to go to bed, which in turn meant that if anyone wanted to make a scene, then would be the time. Before he was taken upstairs, he made sure to talk to Leonardo — without anyone instructing him to do so. 

 

“Will you visit again soon?” Petruccio asked Leonardo, looking very much like he wanted him to say yes. 

 

“I cannot say, unfortunately,” Leonardo said apologetically. “Though I can say, I would be delighted to.”

 

Petruccio seemed appeased by this. He held himself back, then said, “I’ll have some feathers for you, just in case.” Embarrassed but honest, he then fled off with his caretaker upstairs. 

 

“Congratulations, you have been adopted,” Federico told Leonardo with good humour, his voice more quiet than usual. Though going by the look their mother threw him, that had been in vain. 

 

Leonardo simply smiled and said, “A great honour, to be sure.”

 

“Very much so,” Claudia said. Even with the air of a joke, it was plain to see that she meant it literally. “Out of curiosity, messere, have you considered taking students?”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ezio saw his father angle himself towards them, clearly at attention and trying to eavesdrop, while still talking to his mother. The urge to scream  _ WHAT DO YOU WANT?!  _ at the top of his lungs made his palms itch. 

 

Leonardo let out a short laugh. “Ah, no — not in the present at least. In all honesty, it did not occur to me that anyone should be interested in having me for a master. I would be honoured, though, and I can see myself having students in the future. When, I couldn’t say.”

 

“So if someone were to request you be their teacher,” Claudia continued, “you would say no?”

 

Leonardo wrung his hands, head tilted back and face pensive. “Well, I couldn’t say. It would largely depend on who’s asking. I am sorry I cannot give you a more clear answer; it’s just that I simply haven’t thought of it before.”

 

“That’s alright, I believe I got my answer anyhow,” Claudia said, not just because it was polite — she did look pleased. Ezio narrowed his eyes. 

 

A voice from their side called, “Forgive me for intruding,” and Ezio nearly flinched, turning to see that his father had sneaked up on them to join their conversation. Joy to the world. Eyes only on Leonardo, Giovanni continued, “My understanding was that students are crucial to an artist’s career. For the connections it can establish, if nothing else.”

 

“You understand correctly,” Leonardo said. “There is also their work as an assistant to consider; a student is an investment in time. A master gives them plenty of it in the beginning of the apprenticeship, and then later save time by delegating simpler responsibilities and tasks to them. Personally, I feel it would be unfair to a potential student by taking them on at this time, since I cannot guarantee that I am able to give them the time and attention they would require.”

 

“How sensible of you,” said Giovanni. “I have always had the greatest respect for a man who knows of his own limitations. It saves the need for someone else to inform him of them.” 

 

_ Hey, God, we don’t talk that often _ , Ezio thought head tilted far back enough that he could look upwards,  _ but I promise to get better at it if you could just end everyone’s suffering and have this evening  _ end _ already. I don’t want to force you or anything so don’t see this as a threat — I just want to let you know that if this  _ doesn’t _ end soon I’m definitely going to commit some grave sin, soon. Like patricide. Or, more likely, suicide. Thanks so much, amen.  _

 

 Leonardo smiled wider. “One often admires in others abilities they themselves fall short of.” 

 

Something flashed in his father’s eyes; though before any more could be said, everyone’s attention was drawn to a sudden noise of almost-choking, akin to a higher pitched keen. Only when everyone turned to look at him did Ezio realise that  _ he  _ had made it. “I’m so sorry,” he said, then mimed stifling a yawn. “I tried to stop myself from interrupting you by yawning, though I fear I failed.” He tried to look apologetic. “I did not get the best sleep last night — terribly sorry.”

 

“True enough,” Federico said, though why Ezio didn’t know, “I woke up early and found light coming from his room, he was sat reading since sleep escaped him.” Oh, he said it so that no one would accuse him of having sneaked out. Ezio needed to do him a favour, perhaps he could put in a good word for him with Aurelia, have her be a bit nicer to him? Would she agree to that?

 

“I’d say, the hour is growing a bit late,” their mother said.  _ Thank you, God. _ “Though it has been lovely — perhaps we ought to retire for the evening.”

 

“I do have work tomorrow,” Leonardo concurred, “I ought to go home, so I can rise early. Thank you so much for tonight, though it has been—”

 

From there, the customary, expected niceties were exchanged, promises to do this again without establishing a clear timeframe, platitudes, gratitudes, all of it, and Ezio went through it only semi-aware, like walking through mist. Only as Leonardo was truly leaving, and took the risk to look Ezio in the eye, if only for a moment, did Ezio somewhat come back to life.  _ There _ was an actual promise; that they would meet again, soon, that they would talk. It might have been Ezio overanalyzing things, it might have been wishful thinking, but in the brief moment of contact there he thought that Leonardo was saying  _ come soon — as soon as you can. _ And Ezio conveyed it back, a slight nod of the head, his eyes clear. He would. As soon as everyone else had fallen asleep. That might have been too soon — only, he didn’t think either he or Leonardo would get much sleep, even though they needed it. 

 

After he had left, tension still remained, and would, he was sure, until he was safe in his room. Even then, until he had met Leonardo, exchanged reassurances. For the moment then, he wished his mother and siblings good night, with an extra nod of the head to Federico for his help. His father got a good night as well, though Ezio avoided his eyes and tried to escape upstairs after the retreating backs of his siblings — only to be halted by his father catching his arm. The grip could easily have been shaken off, though still it felt like steel.

 

“Son, we need to talk. At your earliest convenience, if you don’t mind.” It was not, it was clear, a request. 

 

Ezio nodded and moved to go, but was stopped. Though silent, Giovanni was clear. “ _ Yes _ , father,” Ezio said, exasperated as he would usually be. Only then did his father nod in turn, and let him go. Ezio resolutely did not run.

 

* * *

 

 

What Ezio most definitely had not imagined was that his two oldest siblings would be lying in wait for him in his bedroom: Claudia and Federico lounging in his favourite chair and bed respectively. Arsehole move, he wouldn’t be able to be comfortable in his own fucking bedroom. 

 

“Alright,” he said mostly to himself, and somewhat towards his siblings. “What the hell?”

 

“Spontaneous crisis-council,” Claudia declared. 

 

“Alternatively, a ‘what the hell just happened’ report and event evaluation,” Federico added. “To put it less fancily, what is  _ with _ the size of Leonardo’s b—” he shot a hasty glance to their sister, “— guts? And what’s papà on about?”

 

Claudia rolled her eyes. “It’s fine to say balls if they’re metaphorical, dimwit. I’m not a  _ child _ .”

 

“You’re supposed to be a lady, though,” Ezio pointed out. 

 

“That’s impossible around you two, anyway,” Claudia dismissed. “But fine — what’s with little Leonardo’s claws? My impression was that he was  _ sensible _ , not willing to make an enemy out of Giovanni Auditore.”

 

“He gave as good as he got,” Federico said. “Better, even. Question is, what made father decide to start  _ provoking _ him? Say what you will about whether Leonardo acted stupidly or not, he was  _ definitely  _ the one who started it.”

 

“You know,” Claudia leaned back in the chair, elbow unenegantly slung over the back of it. “This would be so much easier to understand if I knew what you were hiding.”

 

Ezio couldn’t help groaning, he was so fucking tired at that point. He went over to the bed and draped his back over the foot of it. So what if Federico gave him a kick to the ribs for making him move his feet away, he was beyond giving a shit. 

 

“So that’s a yes,” Claudia said.

 

“No, that was a  _ please fucking stop,  _ I’m  _ exhausted _ ,” Ezio snapped. “I feel like I’ve been an undercover spy hiding in an enemy army. Seeing conspiracies and secrets everywhere and trying to figure out all of them and not getting even  _ one.  _ I have had  _ enough. _ ”

 

“Whatever it is,” Claudia continued dismissively, “I bet Federico is in on it.”

 

“Ew,” Federico said before he could help it. “I mean,  _ ugh _ . I’m gonna be a banker, I don’t need more covert shit in my personal life, thank you. The only thing I’m in on is open and honest communication.” Both Claudia and Ezio shared a snort of disbelief in solidarity. “Both of you shut up. Let’s talk shit about our father instead. Who has, if may I suggest, lost his mind.”

 

“Don’t know if he’s lost it, exactly,” Ezio said. “More like, become more unhinged. At a certain age I guess you just stop caring what people think.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Claudia said. “The older you get the  _ more  _ you care what people think. You just stop wishing to know what they think so you can think it too, and start wanting to know what they think so you can make them change their minds and think what  _ you  _ think instead.”

 

“Stop,” Ezio said pleadingly, throwing his arm over his eyes. “I can’t think anymore, I’ve had enough.”

 

“Stop hiding shit, then,” Claudia spat. “I’ll figure it out anyway. Eventually.”

 

“Hopefully I’ll have faked my death by then,” Ezio sighed. “Moved to another city under an assumed identity. Another country, even. Figure out who I am, et cetera.”

 

“I’ll just follow the strings of broken hearts left behind,” Claudia said. “Changing names is easy, changing habits is harder.”

 

“I’ve  _ already _ changed my habits, how many times do I have to tell you?”

 

“As if you and Leonardo don’t go to the brothel together,” Claudia said. 

 

Ezio pushed himself up on his elbows. “How did you—”

 

“Lucky guess,” Claudia waved it away. “It’s what you did with your other friends, why not with Leonardo?”

 

“He draws the prostitutes,” Federico said. “Uses them as models. He’s friends with a lot of them, alright? That’s the secret.”

 

Ezio looked at his brother. “Rico—”

 

“She would have figured it out, like she said,” Federico interrupted him. “Might as well tell her the truth. Leonardo’s on good foot with the courtesans, so is Ezio, so he visits with Leonardo when he goes to sketch them. I’ve seen his work with my own eyes and I recognised most of them, so I know it’s true. It’s to do with his work, but that doesn’t make it  _ respectable _ , you know. That’s why they hid it.”

 

Claudia squinted. “Hm.” She sighed. “Good cover story. Use that if father continues to press. I’m guessing it will hold up if father against all odds sends someone to question the courtesans?”

 

“Yeah,” Ezio said. “Because it’s true.” 

 

“I believe you,” Claudia said. “I just know that can’t be  _ all  _ of it. You wouldn’t be this scared if it was. Father doesn’t know you like I do.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Ezio said. He called bullshit on that one. She knew him better than their father,  _ yes _ , though that wasn’t very difficult to achieve. “What do you think it is then?”

 

“Ezio, seriously,” Federico ribbed him, poking his middle with his foot again. 

 

“What!” Ezio protested. “I want to hear her guess! What’s the harm in that?”

 

“Plenty, if she’s any good at it.”

 

“Which I am, thank you very much,” Claudia snorted. She sucked on her teeth, which produced an absolutely terrible whistling noise that grated on Ezio’s poor ears, and crossed her arms while she considered. “Well, it’s  _ got  _ to be an affair of some sort—” at that point, Ezio cut her off with a dramatic, exasperated groan. Federico just said “ _ ugh _ ”. 

 

“Not this shit,  _ again. _ I’ve  _ told you _ , I’m not seducing some innocent little lady! I’m done with that! I haven’t tricked, pressured, blackmailed, lead astray or corrupted any innocent young virgins like a fucking  _ incubus _ , thank you  _ so much _ for proving that you do indeed know me more than dad!” He stretched and grabbed the pillow from underneath Federico’s head, ignoring his protests, pressed it to his face and screamed. “I’ve had enough!” he cried into the pillow, so whether it was too muffled to understand he didn’t care, nor even notice. “I’ve had enough of this fucking house,  I’m moving in with Leonardo!”

“Ezio, put the pillow away and calm down!” Claudia hissed. “Do you  _ want  _ to make our parents come investigate? Shut up!”

That did shut Ezio up — enough for him to put the pillow away, sit up on his elbows and glare at his sister, who rolled her eyes. “Real mature, there. What I was  _ going _ to say was that  _ I  _ think you’ve gone and fallen in love with a courtesan, instead of someone they could force you to marry. Which would maybe be clever, if it weren’t for the fact that you  _ can’t  _ marry a courtesan.”

Ezio — blinked. Huh. That was… plausible, actually, something he likely would’ve believed if he was in her shoes. She seemed to take his silence as admission, the way she nodded, self-satisfied. Federico started to choke on air trying to hide his laughter and short after, Ezio began to giggle. Partly out of nervousness, partly out of released tension, and mostly for the insanity of it all. Honestly, what the  _ fuck _ had his life turned into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i need to add the sibs and ezio? no, in fact it kind of makes the story come to a screeching halt, but if you've ever had siblings you KNOW no one would just go to bed after such a Spicy event, bed time is actually group therapy by insults time. it's the law. 
> 
> and yeahhh maybe the leo vs giovanni thing wasn't so spicy depending on if you're used to american character conflicts à la housewives of new jearsy. but i grew up with swedish hollywood wives and while YEAH glasses of water may be thrown once every three seasons the REAL drama is within the quiet, subtle shade that makes everybody around the table go *eye emoji*. and i've witnessed a fight like this. i've been as stressed out as ezio because of it. sorry it's not terribly interesting for all of you probably but they say you're supposed to write based of what you know so eh.
> 
> also by the way, it occured to me after a reader found my tumblr (hello, anon!!!) that y'all might maybe want to know what my tumblr is? just in case you have any questions you want to be anonymous for, or something like that, if you want me to post a preview or a deleted scenes or w/e. come say hi at willshebemina dot tumblr dot com! yeah it's the same url as the one i have on here. but at least now you know that :D


	29. oh boy, fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> violent unrestrained italian male fury expressed with overly dramatic exaggerations and vicious hyperbole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so this one is a bit short because in short, it’s a fucking exhausting chapter. i’m sorry in advance. this isn’t even edited because the thought of reading it through made me long for a good ol’ flask of strongbow apple cider. what happens in this chapter is a perfect example of why psychological contracts have so much destructive potential since it most often means that the two parties have wholly different ideas of what said contract entails, which leads to unclear goals -> feelings of inadequacy and failure to live up to the imaginary goals -> lack of motivation + feelings of injustice -> great interpersonal conflict between authority and subordinate -> resolution in the form of a constructive solution, or the subordinate fleeing the authority in one way or another, most often by leaving the company entirely. lol uh yeah, school is a lot rn. 
> 
> WARNINGS (spoilers): this chapter involves a parent and their child arguing pretty viciously and the parent utilises pretty gross manipulation tactics. the subject of sodomy as a criminal act is also raised and is referred to pretty hatefully. take care of yourselves guys!! i love you!!

As expected, sleep evaded him. Not that he even tried — after his siblings left his room for their own beds, Ezio laid down, closed his eyes, and waited. Waited for his family to fully fall asleep, and for himself to fall asleep, should he be able to. That was the funny thing about being excessively tired though; he was so exhausted that he couldn't sleep, mind whirling even as his limbs grew heavier and heavier. 

 

He replayed every moment of Leonardo in his mind, the little smiles and looks, hidden messages in his words, the tone of his voice. (Had he been right in the moment to think he did  _ this  _ when he in reality might have done  _ that _ ? and so on.) And Petruccio — why  _ was it  _ that he had seemed terrified of Leonardo (how had he known he liked pink?) even as it only took him moments to attach himself more firmly to Leonardo than he ever had to any other stranger.

 

He resolutely did not think about his father. Even as flashes and recent memories came boiling up around the edges of his more pleasant memories. Old ones joined in, too. Of his father screaming at him during that one fateful night with Antonio, his severe lack of sympathy towards Ezio’s misdeeds when they wouldn’t even have been half as bad if it weren’t for Giovanni’s shit lectures on manhood. Worse yet we’re the good memories, who arguably outweighed the bad in their number. He  _ was  _ a good teacher, when the lesson wasn’t shite. When Ezio had been younger, especially, he had been his hero. This untouchable epitome of what it meant to be a man that he aspired to. 

 

When had that changed? 

 

Getting his approval had been a drug, something he was always  _ desperate  _ for more of. It could be as simple as a “well done” and Ezio would be exuberant, ready to burst out of his skin out of sheer, glowing  _ pride.  _ So when his father stopped tutoring him one on one every now and then, started spending less and less time with him not related to work in some way (dry parties  _ did not count _ ), he had been starving for approval. So when his womanising was the one thing that truly got him any attention… well, in hindsight, it couldn’t be clearer. 

 

And in the end it meant nothing. No, to make it even clearer: it didn’t mean  _ shit.  _ There was no reason for him to give a shit in turn, no reason for him to desire his father’s approval, no reason for him to expect that, after Ezio had failed in every which way that mattered to him, apparently. 

 

Still.  _ Still  _ he couldn’t help but lie awake and wish that his dad had been proud. 

 

_ “Fuck!”  _ Ezio spat, before rolling over on his stomach and pressing his face into his pillow so that he couldn’t breathe. “Fuck,” he muttered into the pillow anyway, before wrenching his face away. Why was it that trying to not think about something meant that thought inevitably lead there?  _ Why couldn’t he let this go? _

 

 Ezio hoped and hoped that Leonardo’s thoughts did not weigh quite as heavily as his. On that note, he strained his ears to listen for any sound of life in the home. He found nothing but the wind shrieking through stone outside his window. A pressed ear to the door revealed nothing either, other than the beating of his own heart in his ears. He dressed quickly, silently, the process perfected by years of sneaking out of other people’s homes before dawn. He did not take the window route though, since he didn’t trust the wind not to grab at the open pane and slam it closed, to alert each member of his family. No, he would go through the inner yard; climb a pillar and up onto the roof. 

 

Bolstered with energy he was most definitely stealing out of already depleted sources in his body, and with the promise of soon seeing his bright  _ sole _ , he went out from his room and down to the ground floor — out of force of habit, since that meant he could look around the whole yard, to make sure no one was there underneath the second story landings’ shade. Not that there would be at this hour, of course. 

 

So was it that when Ezio landed on the stone floor and took a cursory look around, he froze, head turned toward his father’s office. The door stood open, and he had mistaken the light from it to be the same as that of the other lanterns kept lit around the house — when in fact, it came from a lamp on the desk, behind which his father was visible. 

 

And he had seen Ezio, too. “Ezio,” he called from within his office. The light from the lamp in the otherwise night dark gloom made his eyes look strange. “Do come in.” He did not seem at all surprised to see his son up and about in the middle of the night. If anything, Ezio realised with a sour taste in his mouth, he had been expecting him. 

 

“Father,” Ezio acknowledged, doing as he was told. His feet moved of their own accord — to stop or to turn would be impossible. Once inside, the lamp’s light did not make his father’s eyes look less strange. If anything, the long shadows it created with every single thing in the room made it all look haunted. If he had a mirror, Ezio was sure his own reflection would have sent shivers down his spine. “Do you want me to close the door?”

 

“Yes, thank you.”

 

Ezio pulled the door close, and though he had never done it he imagined that particular closing felt similar to that of dragging a sarcophagus lid over an open tomb to seal it shut. He longed for sleep, so that his mind might cease being so dramatic about every little bullshit thing. 

 

“What are you doing up at this hour?” his father asked. 

 

Ezio couldn’t help but snort. “I could ask you the same. I hope it’s not work; mother won’t be happy with you.”

 

His father’s lips twitched into a wry smile but for a moment. “I’m writing my brother Mario. It has been too long since we last met and while I cannot abandon my duties here, I’m hoping to draw him away from the countryside and to civilised society for at least long enough to meet face to face.”

 

“I haven’t met him much, so I don’t know him well, but I can say I don’t really think uncle Mario and being civilised go well together.”

 

His father let escape a short huff of amusement. “You’re quite right, alas. Nevertheless, the change of pace might do him well.” He leaned back, and the amusement dissipated. “Though he is not what I wanted to discuss with you.”

 

_ Here we go. Here we  _ fucking  _ go.  _ “No? Then what?”

 

His father’s eyes softened, as though he was sorry for raising the subject he has yet to speak of. “Your future. Ezio, I know you look little forward to joining your brother and I in business, but you are too  _ old  _ for an apprenticeship, especially for such an involved craft! If you desired to pursue art, why didn’t you say so earlier, when something could still be done?”

 

Ezio’s mind was entirely blank, confused and downright too shocked to really process what his father was trying to say. “I— what?” What, are you talking about. What, the fuck. What, was he supposed to say.  _ What.  _

 

“I ask you to reconsider. While I doubt a finer master can be found, even while he admitted to being inexperienced, you are almost finished with your education! Pursue what you will in your spare time, but don’t commit yourself to something so huge this  _ late. _ ” His father stood and walked around the desk, so as to be able to lay a hand on Ezio’s shoulder to convey sympathy. “I don’t say this to be cruel, I hope you know that. Apprentices of the arts begin before or during early adolescence — while you are a man soon to enter your twenties! I know you are one to follow your passions, it is both your greatest flaw and greatest strength. Don’t let it take over your reason for something as important as your future.”

 

Ezio clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow deeply, in a mirror of his deep confusion. “You think… I want to become  _ apprenticed _ to Leonardo — di Ser Piero?” he managed to add the last name as an afterthought; to only use the first name then was not a risk he wanted to take. 

 

Giovanni straightened, and the proud yet determined pleading gaze fell from his eyes. His hand on Ezio’s shoulder tightened, only for a moment, and only marginally. Of course, it took him but a second to correctly guess, by Ezio’s reaction, that he’d had it wrong. He let his hand fall and put some distance between them again. Not enough for it to feel threatening, like he was looming. Just to, in a way, give himself the space to think. Ezio was grateful for the loss of contact, at least. He needed more air to breathe fully. His father rubbed at his brow, then, in a very out of character manner, pinched the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Do excuse me—,” he said, and Ezio now more than ever felt that his days were numbered. “Let me see if I  _ now  _ understand things correctly: you ignore your very well connected if morally loose friends, your schooling, your family… in exchange for  _ nothing? _ ” 

 

His fear was not gone, still he felt his hackles and ire rise.  “So close friends count for  _ nothing _ , now?” he spat. “Just because  _ you  _ don’t like him doesn’t mean he’s worthless! He’s by far the greatest friend I’ve ever had — both in friendship and in character!”

 

His father sighed deeply in irritation, steadying himself by pressing a fist into the desktop. “Oh for God’s sake, I don’t object to _him_ ,” he said. “I agree he’s most likely the greatest person you’ve ever befriended — and in other circumstances I would be proud of you. He’s remarkably intelligent, versatile in his skills, charismatic and polite and _irritatingly_ good at defending himself. No, it is not him, it’s the amount of time you have _wasted_ doing nothing of value, while neglecting everything else! I could have understood a sudden interest in the sciences, but I will not condone you throwing away your duties to simply — what, play _house?_ — with a bastard artisan!”

 

“ _FUCK_ MY DUTIES!” Ezio yelled, and he felt his anger as an unbearable heat flash through every nerve and vein in his body, scalding him from inside. He could no sooner stop it than he could drop dead at will. “I don’t even know what they _are!_ When I was with my other friends that _you_ told me to befriend I was being equally irresponsible, because our behaviour was _unseemingly_. All the while you’d also tell me ‘hey, nicely done son, you’re like me when I was your age!’ right before you’d tell me to cut down on the shit you were proud of me for, because it might cause a _scandal._ Now I _haven’t_ been behaving unseemingly, or associated with immoral dicks; I’ve been spending time with someone who teaches me shit that’s actually interesting just as often as he makes me laugh, so now _that’s_ selfish of me. I just don’t get it! I don’t! What the hell do you **want** from me?!”

 

“Your best!” his father said, clenched. “And what is best for you! I had no earthly idea  _ that _ was too much to ask for. Your poor behaviour reflects badly on us all.”

 

“Reflect badly on  _ you _ , you mean,” Ezio hissed. “Don’t you dare pretend that your words are for my own good! I’ve put up with too much bullshit in the name of my own good for too long;  _ I  _ will decide what my own good is!”

 

Giovanni slammed his fist into the desk, the pots of ink and the lamp rattling against the wood and the light flickering, causing all shadows to make everything in the room seem alien and nightmarish. “Of course it reflects badly on me — I  _ am  _ this family! What do you think it would mean for us if our business partners, our clients and their wives, abound in gossip about how I cannot even control my own flesh and blood? How does that reflect on us, on your mother? It used to be manageable, and now it’s getting out of control! You say you care for your own good, well what good will it do you if you go out into the world on your own, and find that it has already made up its mind about you? Will that be  _ good  _ for you, when you’re shunned before speaking a word? Powerful friends could protect you, allies could help you not only defend yourself, but to fight back. Say that you live life to your fullest, do everything it is that you wish no matter what it is, no matter with whom. What good will  _ Leonardo da Vinci’s  _ friendship do you, then, when far more vicious ?”

 

It took until then for Ezio to realise that his eyes stung, and that it was getting harder to breathe for the stone pressing down his chest, and that his fingernails were pressed so deeply into the flesh of his palms that it sent pain flashing up through his wrists to his arms. “It would do me more good than you ever have, because it would come at no cost and with no imagined contracts,” he said, “I would never, ever have to feel like I was alone, as long as he remained my friend. And if you really, honestly think the rest of our family would side with you just because you  _ represent _ us? Then you don’t know any of us at all.”

 

Giovanni made a short growl of frustration. “Ezio, don’t you  _ see?  _ I know I could never stop your siblings from defending you. I’m asking you not to force them to do it, for  _ their  _ sakes. Would you see Claudia don a habit because no respectable man would marry the sister of an unfriendly degenerate? See Federico’s work bear no fruit because no moral man will do business with someone who refuses to cut ties with someone as irresponsible as you? Hell is filled with well-meaning wishful thinkers whose good intent did little to better the consequences of their actions.”

 

“Are you fucking serious?” Ezio couldn’t believe it. “Let me see if I understand this right: you’re calling me a _devil_ because I don’t have an ulterior motive to being friends with a well liked and respected artist? _Really?_ ” He cast his hands in the air and let them fall just as quick, imploring a God who wasn’t listening. “Fucking really?!”

 

“It isn’t where you are  _ now _ , but where you will end up that concerns me!” Giovanni said tensely. “Let me make things painfully clear, since you still cannot see,” he drew a steadying breath and straightened himself further than Ezio had thought possible, visibly trying to regain his calm. “If you get caught — and at this rate, you  **will** — I will not use my influence to free you. I will stop you from facing the gallows if it comes to it, but no more.”

 

Ezio’s entire body went cold, as all rage left him to be replaced by creeping, freezing dread. “What?”

 

“Do you take me for a fool? I  _ know _ your so-called friend has been arrested for sodomy, and was released only because of  _ his  _ powerful friends, who he has all but cut ties with afterwards to distance himself from it.” That — was something Ezio hadn’t known of. He had to truly struggle to control his nausea and keep it from being overpowering. No wonder. No wonder Leonardo’s initial and still remaining fear of the subject of his nature. Giovanni continued to talk, with his tone now back to being neutral, easy, as if he wasn’t killing Ezio. “I had, in my naivete, believed that you of all people wouldn’t let yourself be seduced. My error of judgement has grown painfully clear, however.”

 

“Do whatever you want to me,” Ezio said, tears threatening to burst from his eyes, “I don’t care what you say to me, think of me, do to me. But I promise you, if you him, you will wish I was the devil you fear I’ll become.”

 

* * *

 

 

He couldn’t remember how he got to Leonardo’s house after that. Did he climb the roofs to run, or did he bolt through the streets — had he said anything else to Giovanni before he left, had Giovanni made a reply? He didn’t know, he couldn’t recall anything more than the desperate, urgent need to seek refuge with the only person that could help him then. 

 

Leonardo was behind his desk when he burst through the window, which had been left open; an invitation if ever there was one. He was dressed for bed, but it couldn’t have been clearer that he hadn’t even tried to go to sleep. Something in Ezio’s face must have frightened him, for he burst from his chair and ran over to envelop Ezio in his arms with a cry of “ _ micio _ ” as soon as he saw him. Ezio wasn’t aware that he was sobbing until he felt Leonardo’s sleepshirt grow damp. He clung to his back like a child would, fallen to his knees on the floor with Leonardo looming like a shield around him. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, sorry for so many things he couldn’t make sense of any of them. “I’m sorry.”

Leonardo shushed, “It’s alright.” He wrapped his arms tighter around Ezio and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, then rested his cheek there. “It’s alright.” Then, once Ezio had begun to settle, he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No,” Ezio said. “No, thank you — I just… can we sleep together? I want to be held by you.” Then, “I’m sorry, I know you have not been well, either.”

 

“I am much better now that you’re here,” came his reply, with that fond voice. “And now that I may hold you. Come.”

 

Leonardo helped Ezio remove his boots, as he himself took off his jerkin and then his trousers. They arranged themselves in an embrace on the bed as easily as one might fasten a button, as if you had done it a million times before and the movements were expected and perfectly natural and practised. Leonardo’s breath became easier, and Ezio, for the first time in what felt like years, slept — and found it to be restful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giovanni: you’d be alone  
> Ezio, fiddling with the friendship bracelet Maggie made him: Aurelia has given me a standing invitation to girls’ night at la rosa colta but go off i guess. no cosmopolitans for you, that’s for damn sure 
> 
> Giovanni isn’t a bad person fully, what he IS is not the best parent, and someone who has fucked up severely but can still get his Shit together and be the good dad he could be — provides his kids forgive him, which isn’t a guarantee and is wholly up to them. The “I’m doing what’s best for you and the family because I love you” is SOO fucking common, and it’s hurts to much because to those parents more often than not it’s TRUE, which makes it harder to rationalise their shitty deeds with the good things in their kids’ heads. notice how Ezio stops referring to Giovanni as his father when they fight, because he literally cannot conceive of how his father, the Good Person, could be the evil stranger in front of him then. my mum handled my coming out in Absolutely a Not Good Way. essentially? she loved me so much the thought of me having to experience homophobia upset her enough to tell me she wished i wasn’t gay, and tried to convince me that i wasn’t. i’ve forgiven her and she’s since then realised how horrible that was of her. let’s keep our fingers crossed for Giovanni having a similarly  
> Draculaesque “im killing my boy” moment.


	30. quidcam?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gay fear.jpg ft. Accidental use of the L-word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what happens if you’re super stressed out and nauseous one day but don’t throw up and the day after you get extremely nauseous again? you throw up. so warning to y’all out there, ezio does that in this week’s episode. poor fucking dude.
> 
> LADS when i'm done with this it will go through the REWRITE FROM HELL. the pacing is FUCKED UP like i've put these boys through so many wrenches in their relationship and they've been bfs for like?? a week? yeah they loved each other before they got together but my DUDES. it's too much too fast the minute i post the last chapter i'm going back and changing shit so that they're together for like two months before any of this whole dinner-shit and fall-out happens! for now just... please suspend your disbelief beyond belief. thank u...

He woke up slowly, aware of lips on his brow and a hand sweeping through his hair before recognising that he was awake. The touch repeated, calm and gentle and oh so welcome. Still with his eyes shut, he stretched out his legs and back, pulling a long groan from his throat at the motion. He yawned as he blearily opened his eyes, sensitive to the bright light of day filtering in through the window. It took him a moment to register that he wasn’t in his own bed, and rather in the bed belonging to the person whose hand was still gently carding through his hair. Once he could, he turned his head a bit to more clearly see his love seated on the edge of the bed, and made a low noise in the back of his throat to say good morning rather than to try to properly vocalise it. 

 

Leonardo saw that Ezio was awake, and smiled. “Hello, love. Sleep well?”

 

“Like the dead,” Ezio said, voice raspy and deep from sleep. “What time is it?”

 

“Two hours before noon,” Leonardo replied. “I would have woken you when I rose, but you slept so deeply I don’t think I could have if I tried. I’m guessing it was needed.”

 

Ezio had a niggling idea at the back of his head about what he was supposed to be doing, which tutor would turn up at the villa and not find him there; he didn’t care to think closer on it. Fuck, he couldn’t even think about going back to the villa at all, at least not then. “I could sleep for another two days and still feel tired,” he said, only half-joking. He turned to his back and grabbed at Leonardo’s shoulder to try and pull him down into the bed, even though Leonardo was fully dressed. Instead, Leonardo took hold of Ezio’s arm and pulled him up, maneuvering the two of them so that Ezio was half sitting up,  back rested to the left side of Leonardo’s chest, arms circled around his waist. Ezio took a hold of them, just in case Leonardo would consider letting him go. 

 

“I agree with you,” Leonardo said. “I didn’t get much sleep the night before last. Imagine it was the same for you?”

 

“Yeah. I was a nervous wreck — you could probably tell.”

 

“I wouldn’t have, if I didn’t know you so well. Could you tell it on me?”

 

Ezio shook his head. “Not as much. I saw how tense you were, though. Your smiles didn’t reach your eyes. And usually, it’s your eyes where your smile is the brightest, even when your lips lay flat. You were angry, even. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be that angry before.”

 

Leonardo looked away, wringing his hands. “Anger doesn’t come easily to me. Where others grow like a fire, I tend to just — deflate, I think. Grow sad. The unfairness of it all though,  how unhappy you were around your father, who should if anything be your pillar of strength; how unhappy your _siblings_ were that they could not intervene… that, along with the jabs at your character made me furious. It very quickly became clear that it wasn’t I who was on trial last night, and that infuriated me even further. He was testing you, clearly, but I cannot for the life of me imagine _why_ or for _what_?”

 

“He—” Ezio suddenly barked out a laugh, only now finding the humour in what his father had believed at first. “He, God, he thought I wanted to be your _apprentice_ ,” he said, fighting to keep down the near hysterical giggles bubbling forth from his chest. 

 

Leonardo’s eyes bugged and he, too, spluttered. “He _what?_ ” He made another half choked noise. “What in God’s name made him believe _that_?”

 

Ezio’s eyes were wet now, and his cheeks hurt. “He — he said because we spend so much time together during the day, because I knew how to,” another bark of laughter, “ _roll your scrolls_ properly, and my brain stopped working after that so I don’t remember the rest.”

 

Leonardo’s shoulders were shaking with silent mirth. “ _Roll my scrolls?_ ”

 

“That’s what he said!” Ezio cried. “Well, I’m paraphrasing, but that was basically it! He was kinda nice about the whole thing too, I was _so_ confused. Like oh, he got that I have dreams, it was a shame that I discovered my passion for art so late, but I should think about being secure in my future and not waste my education blah blah I love you, son, but you’re kinda dumb blah blah. Super touching.”

 

Leonardo raised a brow. “Insulting your intelligence is touching?”

 

Ezio waved a hand. “He didn’t insult my intelligence, he just… said I follow my heart more than my head. Well, one of my heads. That’s true, though, and that’s not really a bad thing.” Ezio’s father had thought him stupid, he remembered morosely. That had come afterwards, he had been kind when he didn’t know what the truth was. To think that if he had just nodded, agreed, kept his calm and hid his confusion, the night would have ended very differently… that in itself was as clear a case as any that he had trouble thinking strategically. A blessing and a curse indeed… 

 

He was taken from his thoughts by Leonardo’s hand lifting his chin up. His eyes looked soft, sad, but the intent behind his gesture was to comfort Ezio, that was clear to see. It worked, just meeting Leonardo’s eyes did much to settle him and bring him out from his melancholy. Ezio took Leonardo’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, then cradled it to his chest. 

 

“It wasn’t all he said,” Leonardo asked, “was it?” 

 

Quick flashes of memories from the night before spun through Ezio’s head. He didn’t want to linger on any of them — he didn't want to remember them at all. They felt more akin to misty memories of nightmares, ones where you remembered the fear it instilled in you more than you remembered the dream itself. “No,” he sighed. “It wasn’t. I don’t know how much I can explain what came next, though. And I can say for sure that you won’t like it. It might even terrify it more than it did me.” How could he forget, after all, how scared Leonardo had been to reveal to his nature _Ezio_ , his closest friend? How then, would he react to learn that a man that could very easily destroy him knew? Oh God — Ezio’s stomach rolled. He clutched Leonardo’s hand so tightly that he heard his love wince involuntarily, and forced himself to lessen his grip and mumbled a quiet “sorry”. He hadn’t even considered what his father would _do._

 

It was too much — the nausea he’d suffered the day before from stress and fear came back full force and then some, and he had counted his blessings with every close call before. He felt clammy, and more and more ill, and threw aside Leonardo’s hand as if it burned and pushed himself up and away from the bed, ignoring Leonardo's worried cry of “ _Ezio_ ?” in his quest to find — there! He fell to his knees and grabbed the chamberpot and had less than a second to think _at least it’s empty_ before he vomited into it. He stayed on his knees, shaking and trembling with cold sweat, until nothing but bile came up. 

 

Leonardo had joined him on the floor at one point; Ezio was only truly aware of it once his stomach settled. Holding his shoulders, rubbing his back — and offered him a damp piece of cloth once he pulled his head back. His quick thinking was truly something else. Ezio took it, grateful, and wiped his face as best he could, wishing it would do away with the taste in his mouth as well. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Ezio was too exhausted to lie. He shook his head no. 

 

“Is it— are you ill?”

 

He shook his head again. Leonardo’s arms tightened around him and he folded himself into the embrace like a sunflower tilted itself towards the sun. “I don’t know how to tell you this in a way that won’t terrify you,” Ezio said, voice hoarse. 

 

“Then don’t,” Leonardo said. “Not now, at least. Get dressed while I clean this up, then we’ll have to get you some breakfast — and pickmeup, since I imagine your mouth doesn’t feel fantastic right now. Bad news are best delivered with a calmed body, if not mind.”

 

Ezio nodded, and the gratefulness he felt for having Leonardo by his side outshone all discomfort and fear. Tears had been forced out of his eyes by strain, and he felt proud that no more tears fell. Instead, he took a deep breath and nodded again. Leonardo kissed his temple, despite the cold sweat that clung to his skin, and Ezio managed a smile. 

 

* * *

 

 

A quarter hour later, he was clean and dressed, seated by the fire on cushions and blankets together with Leonardo the way they had what seemed like ages ago. The mug between his hands spread its warmth not only through his body, but through his very spirit and, though it didn’t remove the taste entirely, at least helped considerably. Some plain, white bread had been like God’s Grace to his stomach as well. 

 

All the while he had calmed down much, by which he meant that he was no longer panicking and had gotten mostly numb, Leonardo was quietly buzzing and trying not to let it show. 

 

“You won’t like this at all,” Ezio said, like he had before. “I think I’ll tell you the worst of it, then I’ll try to explain everything that was said between me and my— between me and Giovanni Auditore.”

 

“I promise to stay through all of it,” Leonardo said. Ezio ached with love for him, and did not let it be drowned by dread. 

 

“He knows.” He took a deep breath. “He knows about the two of us.” Cautiously, he glanced at Leonardo, who was staring straight into the fire, and whose skin was rapidly turning pale. His lips were pinched and eyes wide, unblinking, and not a single muscle in his body as much as twitched. “Leonardo?”

 

Leonardo took a single, deep, shuddering breath. “I now very much understand your bout of sickness upstairs,” he said, tone clipped and neutral in a way that spoke of him being a minor stressor away from becoming completely unhinged. “And I regret not waiting for the evening, so that we might have had this conversation aided by spirits. I assume, since no one has kicked down my door yet, that we’re not in immediate danger?”

 

“He started outright that he wouldn’t notify the city guards,” Ezio confirmed, glass to at least be able to lessen the bad news somewhat. “It’s his… indirect means I’m really worried by.”

 

Leonardo held out a hand in a silent question, and Ezio took it without question, not even bothered by the tight grip on his fingers. ‘Tell me everything, to the best of your ability,” Leonardo requested. 

 

Ezio did. He could not recall things word for word, and some sentences were completely gone from his mind, but he remembered enough that he struggled telling it. He wanted to censor it, make it kinder on Leonardo to hear and on himself to tell, though he restrained himself from doing so. Leonardo deserved the truth, and Ezio himself needed to  come to terms with that which had been said. 

 

Beside him, and by the ever-tightening grip on his fingers, Ezio could feel the _rage_ burning through Leonardo. With everything he recalled that his father had said, Leonardo’s jaw clenched, and he even fidgeted in his seat, and avoided looking Ezio in the eye in favour of staring furiously into the fire. Not that Ezio could have handled much eye contact then, anyway. 

 

After what felt like hours, his drink had turned room temperature, his throat was hoarse, and he wanted to go back to bed and sleep for ten years. 

 

The first thing Leonardo said once Ezio had run out of things to recall was, “I am glad you left. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you please. If anyone comes looking for you that you are not ready or willing to see, run over the rooftops and take refuge with Isabela and the other girls until it’s safe to come back.”

 

Ezio’s heart skipped a beat and he felt immediately lighter. “You mean I can stay here? What if it makes things worse for you?”

 

“Then we move,” Leonardo said. “I had been thinking of moving to Venezia before we became close. We would just do that, and be away with this place. Start over. I don’t know anyone closely there, but I have some acquaintances that would help us get set up. You could find use for your education there, I’m sure of it. I’ll take up apprentices, earn some money through that — that was likely the most helpful idea your father has ever brought forth,” he said the last with some much needed humour painting his voice. 

 

Firenze was and has always been Ezio’s and still… the temptation to run away in the way Leonardo proposed overwhelmed him. Something like hope flared in his chest. He grinned, feeling, in that moment that together they were invincible, “Does that mind of yours ever rest?” he joked. “You’ve got backup plans for your backup plans.”

 

Leonardo’s ears reddened. “No advisor would be anything without their man of action,” he retorted. Ezio wished he could lean forward and kiss him; curse his prior nausea! “You and I, we make a good team.”

 

“It’s a miracle, really,” Ezio said. “Honestly, I would understand if this was too much for you. If you wanted to —,” he cleared his throat to stop the emotion dwelling there, “— if you wanted to stop… this. People have broken up for less.”

 

Leonardo’s face fell then and he cast his eyes down, and Ezio instantly felt horrible, though he kept quiet so Leonardo could give his reply. He looked up to meet Ezio’s eyes again, and leaned forward to brush a strand of hair away from his face; Ezio shivered at the touch. He didn’t pull his hand back, instead laying it to Ezio’s face, and brushed his cheek with his thumb. “Do _you_ want to stop?” he asked. “You could take the easy path, find some wonderful woman to fall in love with in a way that would please your parents. Or remain unwedd, take as many lovers as you’d like. Or you could marry someone like us, and I’d be the open secret between you, and if someone suspected she would vouch for you as you would her. Would you want any of that?”

 

So — either forever prove his parents right and subscribe to a relationship of a sort that would suffocate his and his wife under the weight of what others thought they ought; remain in a socially accepted form of deviancy until burned out and with shattered lives in his wake, the way he had been headed before; or live a lie trying to please his parents, societal norms and himself all in one, and inevitably fall to the stress, and resent everyone and everything for having to lie. 

 

“ _Fuck_ no,” he said fiercely.  “Like hell I’d throw you aside because it would be _easy_. And like hell would I keep you like a dirty little secret — I have plenty of things to be ashamed of, and not one of them is loving you. I’d almost say it’s the one thing I have to be proud of, and I’ll spend every day from now on doing what I can to deserve it, if you’ll let me.”

 

And — shit. Leonardo was staring at him. Slack jawed and with shining eyes larger than he’d ever seen them. “Fuck,” Ezio said. He could smack himself. First he announced that his father could have them both sent to the gaol if he wanted to, and now he goes and uses the l-word. Just one of those things would have been considered ‘too much’ on its own. If he hadn’t scared Leonardo off before, he definitely had now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to say that until you were ready to hear it, and now I’ve gone and wasted it on a time like this. I meant to—” he forgot what he meant to, since Leonardo took the mug of long since cold pickmeup from him, put it on the floor and then closed the distance between them to kiss him. 

 

The kiss was clumsy. It was decisive. It was awkward, tasted terribly and it instantly became one of the greatest kisses of Ezio’s life, all for the love behind it.  

 

They soon parted, and Leonardo rested his forehead against Ezio’s. “I love you,” he said like it was the simplest thing. And maybe it was. “In case you couldn’t already tell by my kissing you less than an hour after you puked.”

 

Ezio giggled, and Leonardo did too, giddy like children. “I have heard it said that love makes you stupid,” Ezio snorted. “Not that I needed love for that, but you clearly did.”

 

“It’s an honour to be made a fool for you,” Leonardo smiled, and he said it with such sincerity that Ezio felt his whole body blush. 

 

“I need you to know — I haven’t been as stupid for anyone else as I am for you,” Ezio confessed. “And I haven’t told anyone that I love them, either. Cristina wanted me to, but I never could.”

 

Leonardo hummed. “It’s nothing one should say before they’re good and ready, I believe. I don’t think something so silly as that it would lose its meaning, the more you say it; as long as you mean it when you do. Love like home, its name need not be spoken for it to exist. It’s something you feel, and may choose to name if so desired.”

 

“Love _is_ a home,” Ezio said. “And that’s enough with the metaphors for today. If we get any sappier we’ll never get anything done.” He kissed Leonardo’s cheek and promptly rose to his feet, offering a hand up to his stunned, still seated lover. “Come on!”

 

“Do you have some plan I’m not privy to?” Leonardo asked, though he did take the help of the offered hand. 

 

“I didn’t until a few seconds ago,” Ezio said. “Teach me to paint!” 

 

Leonardo stumbled over thin air. “Teach you to _what_?”

 

“Paint!” Ezio repeated. “You have to do your commissions and I’m not letting you procrastinate today — for once. So why not kill two birds with one stone and give my father an ulcer?”

 

“You’re serious?” Leonardo cried in disbelief. “Ezio, I cannot have you as my apprentice!”

 

Ezio’s heart sank. “Well why not?”

 

“I can’t be in a se— _romantic_ relationship with my student, it’s unethical! Immoral, even!”

 

Oh, was that it? “We were in a relationship already, it’s not as if you would be corrupting a young, impressionable and eager to please student!”

 

“ _Ezio_ , sans ‘student’, you just described yourself!” Leonardo blanched. “And I’ve corrupted you!”

 

“Oh _bullshit_ ,” Ezio said. “We corrupted _each other_ , thank you very much. If anything, I corrupted you!” Leonardo sputtered while Ezio continued, “So since we agree that’s a non-issue, what other legitimate reason do you have to oppose my frankly _great_ idea?”

 

“It will be terribly boring for you initially,” Leonardo said. “Progress will be slow. Apprenticeships take _years_ — far too long to keep something up just to spite your father.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Ezio said. “And besides,” he clasped both of Leonardo’s have in his, and raised them to his heart, “I want to be able to paint you one day. So that you can see yourself as I see you, and everyone you look at your portrait you’ll see my love for you.”

 

Leonardo’s lips were firmly pressed together, and his brow thoroughly furrowed. His stark red blush that took over every visible bit of skin, however, revealed his true emotions. “Oh fine,” he finally said. “What harm will one try do?”

 

Ezio let out a noise of triumph and threw his arms around Leonardo’s neck and peppered kisses over his face until Leonardo, laughing, succeeded in pushing his face away. “Calm yourself, please!” 

 

“I won’t!” Ezio cried, grinning broadly and bright. “My heart is in your hands, mio tesoro.”

 

Leonardo’s eyes shone. “I promise to do my best to do right by it.”

 

“That won’t be hard at all,” Ezio laughed. “All you have to do is hold it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gay culture is talking about running away together and starting a new life somewhere no one knows them and maybe holding hands too <3
> 
> in no way do i intend to say that a bi person marrying someone of the opposite sex is "an easy way out" or that they're no less bi for being together with a person of the opposite sex. bi people are bi no matter the gender of the person they're currently with. in this case it's meant to say "hey if you would never leave me to make things 'easier' for you then why do you think i could ever do the same thing to you??? huh?? exactly bitch." leo didn't say it to be mean to ezio about his sexuality he said it to show ezio that his question was dumb af and generally shitty. and ezio didn't mean to be shitty, but boy he should've kept it in his head. sometimes people be shitty on accident and leo is capable of that too :/
> 
> i have my first exam in organisational and industrial psyhology tomorrow and i'm so nervous lol please wish me luck, lads <3 also if we analyse the work of writing fanfiction on herzberg's two-factor theory then since hygiene factors don't factor as potential motivators at all, the only potential motivators we have are recognition, appreciation, growth, responsibility etc.... kudos and comments are the fucking best and make my fucking week tbh i love you guys :') 
> 
> vroom's theory also kind of works on the practise of fanfiction. i could probably write an essay about what motivates people who do creative work for free, it's super interesting. anyway i recommend that everyone checks out "work in the 21st century: an introduction to industrial and organizational psychology" by J. Landy and M. Conte. the fifth edition is up as a free pdf file for everyone who knows how to google — considering basically everyone will have a job at least once in their lives, i think it's an essential read. KNOWLEDGE! IS **SEXY!** and so is piracy ;)


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